Twisted Reality
by MX5
Summary: With Captain Rostron in command, the Titanic is put into a parallel dimension where she did not sink. It is World War 1 and a lady surgeon comes on board to help out. New chapter added-Points Of View
1. Chapter 1

Story 1-Dimensional Segway

The _Titanic_ chugged along through the sea, ready to disembark her passengers at Gibraltar. Chief Officer William Murdoch stood at the bridge, hands behind his back, shooting a glance over at the quartermaster in the wheelhouse behind him. He was waiting for a young woman who had been scheduled to arrive on the ship and escort her to her own quarters.

"Any luck, Will?" a young man asked his superior officer. Deep brown eyes locked onto his for a moment as the younger officer pulled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket.

"No, she hasn't turned up yet." Murdoch sighed, watching the bow plow a furrow into the ocean as she went on.

"We just keep on. About your work, Mr. Lowe."

"Yes sir." Lowe had rounds to make.

He exhaled the salty air, eyes narrowing in the sunlight. When he'd opened up his eyes on board the ship, he'd been greeted by the former chief officer, Henry Wilde, who told him that he was the chief officer now and he had duties to attend to. Murdoch had asked Wilde what was going on and Wilde had told him that there was a woman about to come aboard within the next few days and she would enlighten them all as to what was happening.

With that cryptic comment, Murdoch was unwilling to let his duties go wanting. He'd taken control the best he could and the ship began to run efficiently, if the engines humming belowdecks were any indications. He shifted his weight, feeling the slight vibrations a reciprocating engine would always have. Placing a hand on the sun-warmed railing on the left bridge wing, he heard the seagulls cawing and fighting with each other as they neared port.

A few minutes later, he heard a muted swearing coming from the boat deck, turned, and saw a young woman standing at the taffrail. She was dressed more oddly than anyone he had seen before, white shoes on her feet, a dark material that was blue encircled her waist to mid-hip, and a white loose top which flapped in the breeze. The woman had medium length curly auburn hair, and she was wearing a pair of dark colored lenses set in what looked like wire frames. She had an hourglass figure, thin but not too thin, and Murdoch was astonished to see her midriff was bare.

"Are you lost, madame?" she turned, settling her dark glasses glance at him.

"Possibly," her voice was girlish and she started to walk towards him. "where am I exactly, sir?"

"You're on the _Titanic_, miss?"

"Oh, um Lara Sheridan."

"Charmed. Chief Officer William Murdoch." he kissed her hand gallantly and she smiled.

"So tell me, Mr. Murdoch, what am I doing here? The last thing I remember is the _Titanic_ centennial."

"Centennial?"

"She's been on the ocean floor for 100 years." Lara clarified. "I thought you'd know that."

"Well, Miss, this isn't exactly the hereafter. I came here 2 days ago much like you did. I was told you could shed some light on the subject." he leaned against the railing of the bridge wing.

"Well, I'll be. You know, I think the astrophysicist crowds were right on when they approached the subject of alternate realities."

"The what?"

"This is an alternate reality, Mr. Murdoch. I'm very interested in the subject and all things supernatural and paranormal as well. Essentially it is a wormhole in space-"

"Wormhole?" he asked, bewildered.

"Like I said," she shot him a sharp look, telling him not to cut her off again. "this reality skewed off from where the _Titanic_ was actually above the ocean floor. I'd say about the time you guys were preparing for its ill-fated voyage, a wormhole in space opened up and you were all taken into this reality. You wouldn't have noticed it."

"If it branched into this reality, why do we have the memories of it sinking?"

Lara furrowed her brow. "Because the true reality of it sinking did happen, and you have the memories from your true self. I don't know how it works exactly, but we're here, and it's not the hereafter, as you call it."

"So can we tell the future while we're here?"

"No." Lara said decisively. "Nobody can tell the future, Mr. Murdoch. I would guess I am here because I can tell you what will happen if we enter into another wormhole, you know history."

"I see," Murdoch said, but he didn't really see it at all. Wormholes?! A lady from the future harping on about astrophysics? So she was supposed to be like a leader to them, helping them out in any specific period in history then? It all made no sense to Murdoch and a headache began to throb behind his temples. He shut his eyes for a moment and wished that the sun wasn't so bright.

"Well, I'm a surgeon and I hope you'd have need for me on your ship." Lara was saying. "I need to determine what year and what day it is."

"As you please." Murdoch showed her the room that had been prepared for her and went back to the bridge, wondering what the hell they had gotten themselves into.

"Nice. Spartan, but nice." Lara sat down on her bed and picked through the suitcase she spied in the corner. A surgeon's uniform and what looked like a whittled down stick with a fancy carved handle. "A wand! Now I feel like Harry Potter!" she giggled and with one flick, the wardrobe filled itself up with all kinds of clothes that she loved to wear. She put the wand in the bedside nightstand, then took her sunglasses off of her face. "If Dr. Ballard could see me now." she muttered with a grin, imagining the look on the ocean explorer's face at that second. He had been her hero for as long as she could remember and Lara always respected and liked him very much.

Now, dimensional or reality crossing seemed to be the name of the game. She flipped through the monthly calendar hung on the back of the door and discovered it was May 1st, 1915. "_Lusitania'_s going down in a few days." she muttered.

The door to her closet started to glow as Lara crossed in front of it, picking up a red blazer that had fallen off her chair back. "What?" she sat the words Harry Potter emblazoned on it in glowing purple script. Opening up the door, she saw a portal in front of her, and the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe flashed through her mind briefly as she put a hand out...

(Harry Potter stories)

"Waaaughhh!" Lara felt herself winged out of the portal entrance and she flopped onto the floor. "Very inelegant." she giggled at herself as the door opened and an officer looked down at her.

"Are you all right, Miss Sheridan?"

Picking herself up, she replied, "I'm fine, just a little klutzy, that's all."

"Right. I'm Second Officer Harold Lowe. Supper is ready and they sent me to come and get you."

"Nice to meet you, sir." she pulled on her sunglasses as the 6 p.m. sun was still in the sky. "Who is the captain here?"

"Arthur Rostron."

"Good, I hope I get to meet him."

Lowe shot her a bemused smile. "I should hope so, Miss Sheridan. He will be at supper."

"Oh, clumsy me!" she rolled her eyes with a smile. "I'm a little slow today."

"That's all right. Everyone is on their first day." he gently teased her, grinning.

"I should warn you, I'm not like other ladies." Lowe opened the door for her and they entered the dining room where everyone was already assembled. The ship was now in port so everyone could take a break from their duties for that night.

"Clearly." Lara had to remind herself that her attire and mannerisms were not the normal thing back then. She sat down and had to stifle the urge to fart almost immediately. Trying not to laugh, she was introduced around and the others were introduced to her.

"Chief Officer Murdoch, First Officer Lightoller, Second Officer Lowe, Third Officer Boxhall, and Fourth Officer Moody." Captain Rostron went around the table and announced what Lara had already told Murdoch about alternate realities. Needless to say, the others did not warm up to her idea at all, but a few of them wanted to.

It would take time for them but Lara knew what would happen in the years to come, so she supposed that was what she was there for. In alternate realities, nothing had to make any sense, it was just there. Some sidelong glances were passed in her direction, but she didn't acknowledge them at all. All of the officers were very no nonsense and Lara knew they were from a time when if nothing could be proved, it didn't exist. She'd have a hard time opening up their spiritual eyes to the possibilities like ghosts, but she wasn't going to go crazy to try to get them into it. She could persuade but she couldn't make them see what they didn't want to.

The supper was stiff and formal and Lara wanted to leave it quite badly. A buildup of pressure formed in her rear and she had to wait until the captain dismissed his officers and deemed supper was over. When Rostron did so, she got up and left demurely, not wanting to cause a scene. When she was back in her room, she ripped a loud fart and started giggling at the sound of it.

"This will be very interesting, I think." it was 9, too early for her to go to bed, but she didn't want to walk along the rails and get noticed by any of the officers. They'd bombard her with stupid questions or lambast her for believing in such fancies. Using the wand, she conjured up a pile of books and picked up the top one.

"I mean really, Will! What is she on about?" Lightoller ranted in the bridge. Murdoch stood quietly and gave his longtime friend no encouragement. Lowe had a fiery temper but even Lightoller's anger was no match for a Welshman's, Murdoch thought. Mind you, he did come close on some occasions.

"Just take it with a grain of salt, Charles, like the rest of us!" Murdoch barked, in officer mode now. "In the meantime, you are not to be judgmental of Miss Sheridan in any way!"

"Have you seen the way she dresses, Will! Improper!" now Lightoller was looking for any excuse to yell at Lara. "That girl is an embarrassment to society!"

"Are you done yet?" Murdoch wearily asked. "We have jobs to do and this mission to pull off! She'll be an asset!"

The mission, with the German government getting too high in their stations, was to pull up on the coast and pretend to be taking on passengers for a Mediterranean cruise, but they were really taking off some stranded British armed forces that had been there for a week. The German government was busily making arms and all sorts of weapons, of which the rest of the world was very uneasy about. Two of the British passengers they were to get were spies and Rostron would get their information, passing onto the admirality in code.

"The fighting's already started on their home turf," Lightoller calmed down a bit. "some of our boys are injured, Will."

"That's partially why Lara is here. She will make a competent surgeon with Dr. Simpson."

Lightoller shook his head as he looked out over the bow. "We are at war, Will." his blue eyes darted around the horizon as the darkness crept over the ship. "I don't like it, not at all."

"Not I." both were of the mind that wars were useless and just ended hundreds of lives.

At the same time, Lara finally fell asleep, dreaming of the past.

When she woke up the next morning, she opened up the porthole curtains to be greeted with rain. The ship had disembarked from Gibraltar and was now on the way to someplace else. Lara pulled on jeans, sneakers, and her officer's jacket, going over to the surgery to find her way around.

"Dr. Sheridan! I'm Dr. John Simpson," they shook hands. "I think you'll find everything to your liking here." Lara gaped. Instead of the old decrepit OR she expected to see, everything was up to date in her eyes. There was an endoscopy suite, an x-ray room, a patient ward, and a big operating room so they could work together. An alcove revealed hundreds of types of medicines, oral and IV, and a closet across the hall had been filled with equipment they would need, 2 autoclaves, a handful of Dynamap vital sign monitors, walkers, IV poles, etc.

"Wow."

"I know!" Simpson giggled. "I've been studying on how to use these things for the past few days."

"I can show you." there was an ultrasound in the corner of the endoscopy room so Lara demonstrated how to use it.

Later that day, Lara was coming back from a quiet lunch in the derelict looking Verandah Cafe when she overheard two of the officers talking to themselves just outside the officer's quarters.

"...don't like it, Harold. She's too much a distraction here."

"...I know, Charles, but still you should give her a chance."

"We would have been better off if she'd never come, filling our heads with this reality nonsense." Lara's mouth hung open. So Lightoller didn't like her, eh? He was always the one that Lara had admired when she read his book and the biography about him. It was because of his unusual name at first, but then she'd read more into his life and she'd really come to regard him with a bit of affection over the years.

Lowe sighed. "Lord knows I wish it too, Charles, but we can't turn back the clock now. We're stuck with her and that's final."

"That Dr. Sheridan is a real distraction, she'll keep us from our duties. Bet you she doesn't even know how to do hers properly..." they walked away and Lara went into her room, forcing back tears. She pushed away her red hair from her face and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Think I'm a distraction, eh? I'll show them!" she snarled, psyching herself up for the job at hand. Before she could get very far, there was a knock at her door.

"Yes?"

Boxhall peeked in. "Captain Rostron sends his compliments and he wishes to see you."

Lara put on her uniform jacket with a rough laugh. "Oh, he thinks I'm a distraction too now, eh? Thinks I'll be more of a dumbwitted twat instead of working on my duties? Tell the captain I need to do inventory in the hold and it absolutely cannot wait!"

"We will be taking on the passengers tomorrow evening, just so you know, Dr. Sheridan." Boxhall meekly told her and left. Lara grabbed a notebook and pen, a wad of tissues, then stuffed them into her coat pockets. Making sure she looked suitable enough to be outside, she slipped out of her room and found the crew stairs down into the forward cargo hold. Instead of doing an inventory like she said, Lara burrowed down amongst the crates and boxes, disguising herself nicely. She had thought to tuck the short little wand in her jeans pocket and she would be all set to freely mope and sulk as long as she had it.

Tears came to her eyes and she felt safe enough to let them flow now.

Rostron heard a knock at his door. "Enter, Dr. Sheridan." he said, not standing up from his desk.

Boxhall stepped in, a sheepish look on his face. "Dr. Sheridan sends her regards, sir, and she needs to do inventory on the surgical supplies down in the hold before the passengers start coming on."

Rostron sealed his missive to his wife and put a stamp on it. Standing up, he looked at the young navigator. "It was done last week. Well, she wasn't here so I suppose it is natural for her to do it again. How long do you think it will take her, Mr. Boxhall?"

"It could be all night."

"If she isn't done by noon tomorrow, we'll go help her out." Rostron said, assuming that Lara would take a break in a few hours and go to bed.

"Yes sir."

"By the wall, have you heard Lightoller spewing out his dislike for the new doctor?"

"Sir?" the carefully schooled expression of bewilderment on his face didn't deceive Rostron one bit.

"I have heard some very ugly things our Mr. Lightoller has been saying about the surgeon behind her back," he clarified. "now I'm no school headmaster, but if Dr. Sheridan catches wind of what he's saying, it will hurt her and I will not have that aboard my ship, sir. The same goes for all of you."

"Understood, sir. Would you like me to send up Mr. Lightoller for you?"

"And Mr. Lowe as well."

"Yes sir. Good day, sir."

"Good day, Mr. Boxhall." Rostron liked Boxhall very much, he was quiet and did not drink at all. The meek officer left the captain's room and went out onto the bridge while Rostron sat on his couch and stroked Abdul, his deaf white haired cat.

The short haired cat was only 10 years old, but he played like he was much younger. Rostron often talked to the cat though it couldn't hear or answer him. Abdul stretched and purred lazily under his master's careful scratching of his ears. "What am I to do, Abdul? I can't have Charles making everything negative for Dr. Sheridan on board this ship. I think she's a nice young woman and must be good at what she does."

Lightoller and Lowe were admitted into the captain's presence and Rostron did not waste any time. "I hear you two bashing our new doctor on board this ship and I tell you, you will curb your tongues!" he seldom got angry but when he did, everyone listened and behaved much better. "Particularly you, Mr. Lightoller! I would think your seniority on this ship would have given you some wisdom, but you go around saying hurtful things of Dr. Sheridan like you were a teenager again! I expected better of you! "

Lightoller composed himself briefly. "Yes sir. It will not happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't or you'll receive a written citation in your records," Rostron growled menacingly. "same goes for you, Mr. Lowe."

"Yes sir." Lowe watched the captain, his brown eyes big with shock and fear.

"I assure you, if this had taken place 100 years ago, I would have flogged you both! You make this entire ship and the White Star Line look bad when you open up your mouth without thinking of what you say! Get out of my sight!" he dismissed them by turning his back on them both and they left. Rostron sank down upon his couch again and stroked Abdul, who looked at his master with a wide eyed expression on his face.

Rostron cast a look around his quarters. The walls were painted white but had stenciled blue flowers just under the ceiling, dark walnut varnished furniture consisting of 2 end tables and the writing desk along with the blue couch were apparent. Abdul gave a kitty yawn and Rostron smiled, turning his head to look out the porthole as the steam ship made its way to the German port. They would berth there tomorrow and the next night, the passengers would be brought aboard.

He thought of Dr. Sheridan with a little smile on his face. There was something about her that he liked, though he couldn't say what. She was an open minded individual, she dressed weirdly, and she had an accent of someone from the American northeast. Rostron liked the Americans very much and he knew all the crew did. They seemed to be able to say what was on their mind and not mind their often stuck up British counterparts. Lara did not have any difficulty speaking her mind and she had a lively voice that was a pleasure for him to hear.

Lara woke up suddenly in the cargo hold, wincing where her shin had hit the sharp point of a wooden crate. Rubbing it, she heard the cargo hold's door squeak open and two sets of footsteps entered.

"She said she was doing inventory." Moody.

"It'd take all bloody night down here." Boxhall. "I wonder if she was doing something else and giving me an excuse."

She watched the flashlight beams work their way around the room, going backwards to make herself smaller and so that she wouldn't cast a reflection. She was very sure now that all the officers hated her and she did not want to be found. When she ship docked, she could get out at Southampton and make a new life for herself somewhere else.

"No trace of her," Moody said after a moment. "should we go upstairs and check on her in her room?"

"Nah, I bet she's there already. It's bloody cold down here, let's go." the door squeaked closed and she heard the footsteps going away. Lara wiped her eyes and looked around the hold, trying to find something more comfortable on which to spend the night, but ended up staying put.

Early in the morning, Rostron had gotten a dossier file on Lara. He summoned up the officers in his quarters and read the pertinent parts aloud.

"She has an extensive background in medical surgery, theraputic endoscopy whatever that is, and is notoriously hard to anger. She is laid back, imaginative and creative and she loves the sea. Nevertheless she has had a hard life including verbal, emotional, and physical abuse at the hands of many. Her emotions can be very fragile and she needs time to heal from all of this." Murdoch and the others looked at him impassively until Rostron shuffled through the file and brought up a pink slip. "What I haven't told you all is that she has made many enemies over the years. One of her enemies is on the roster for the people we are picking up tonight at the pier. I realize this is a lot to handle, but I need her under 24 hour watch. He has sworn to murder her and I need one man to guard her at night, another during the day."

The officers murmured to each other in surprise. "Sir, might we know the details?" Moody asked.

"Well, even I don't really know the specifics, Mr. Moody," Rostron scanned through the pink slip. "it appears that they had been friends once upon a time, then he just turned on her for no reason whatsoever. You would have to get the whole story from her. It seems she made him mad enough so that he swore to take her life. You can see why I will not take this lightly."

"Of course, sir," Lightoller said politely. Inwardly, he was groaning. Why on earth should she be on the ship? Wasn't there drama enough?

"I need a volunteer for the daytime watch. Mr. Boxhall?"

"What about when she's needed in surgery? My regular duties?"

"You will be exempt from them. In surgery, Dr. Simpson will look after her. I have just discussed this with him." Abdul jumped up on the desk and Rostron shooed him away.

"I would be happy to do the day shift, sir," Boxhall said softly. "I quite like her."

"Good. Mr. Lightoller, you are taking the night shift." Rostron penciled him in without a comment, shooting him a look to keep him quiet. "That will be all, gentlemen." they got up and left the room.

Rostron stroked his cat and looked outside for a long moment. "She'll be all right." he told himself, trying to believe it.

Lara woke up again with a need to answer nature's call. She took out the small wand and tapped her belly with it, the need vanished. Grinning for a moment, she put it away and stood up, tripping over a few cargo crates. Straightening up her clothes, she stood in the center of the room and looked around. For some reason, she felt a moment of pride being on such a ship and being involved in such daring adventures. Going over to the door, she checked her cell phone, clicking off the screensaver and looking at the time. Lara had calibrated it for ship time and had downloaded an app for international times, meaning all she had to do was punch in where she was and the clock automatically synced itself to local time. It was odd that her cell phone still worked and never seemed to need a recharge. If it was a perk, she'd take it.

It was noontime and she was quite hungry. Changing into her raingear, as it had become quite stormy outside, she headed for the solitude of the Verandah Cafe where she had a quiet lunch.

Lara had planned to read on deck that afternoon, but the storm was gathering force and she did not think it was a wise idea. Instead, she walked in the ship many times, discovering the pool and transfiguring her outfit into a two piece swimsut and jumping in. She had not been swimming for a long time and thought she would be rusty on it, but she wasn't. Swimming was like riding a bike or driving a car to her-once you learned, you would never forget.

Relaxing most of the afternoon in the pool, she finally hauled herself out at 4:30 and dried herself off with a towel she'd conjured up. Changing her clothes to green khaki pants, her sneakers, and a pink t-shirt with a black hoodie, she went back up on decks with an umbrella to fend off the rain. Walking slowly so she wouldn't bump into any of the officers, she nearly mowed down Captain Rostron who was heading to the bridge.

"Oh, I do apologize, sir!" she exclaimed. "Here, I will share my umbrella as penance."

Rostron laughed, accepting her offer. "The passenger boarding starts tonight with our boys."

"So I heard somewhere," they stepped in time together as Rostron summoned up his courage to tell her about her enemy. "how many do you think will need surgical assistance, sir?"

"I got a telegram that said about 20 need medical care," he cleared his throat. "Dr. Sheridan, I must tell you something."

"I hope it isn't too bad."

"No, not to me. I received a manifest will all the names of the passengers to come aboard tonight. One of them was Blaine Wilson."

Lara did momentarily freeze, then she resumed walking. "Oh, I see."

"I don't know the specifics of your past together but he has sworn to kill you when he gets aboard."

"Well, I'll have to be on my guard."

"Might I ask about your past?"

"To be honest, sir, I don't really remember much of it. Where I come from, yes there was a Blaine Wilson and we hated each other from first sight. I guess it was mutual emnity from day 1. It is a long story."

Captain Rostron was mystified. Sure she wasn't lying, but nonetheless even more curious than before. He said no more as they walked into the enclosed promenade deck, shaking off the rain from Lara's umbrella. "Would you have supper with me tonight?"

She looked surprised by the invitation, shaking out her wavy hair. "I would love to, sir."

"Wonderful!" he ushered her into his sitting room and rang for a steward. Lara was enamored with Abdul and looked around the large airy room. When the steward brought in 2 covered plates, they ate until their hunger was satiated and Lara pulled Abdul onto her lap. Rostron sat next to her as she leaned back and stroked the cat as he purred loudly. Rostron smiled, knowing that Abdul was a huge nuisance to his officers and his guests, but for some reason, the cat seemed attracted to Lara. He would normally hiss and swipe at anyone other than his master, but then with Lara around, Abdul ignored him in favor of the young surgeon.

"I have found that 2 of my officers have been less than generous to you," Rostron started. "Mr. Lightoller and Mr. Lowe have been making unkind remarks about you since you came on board."

"I did hear some of the unkind things they have been saying," Lara admitted. "I have followed Mr. Lightoller and Lowe's careers and I think highly of them, even now. Though as people, I'm afraid my respect for them has gone."

"Understandable," Rostron stroked Abdul as well. "Charles tends to fly off the handle sometimes and he doesn't think much of you because you parade the alternate dimension or reality theory."

"I didn't expect that to make me popular," Lara snorted. "I did think that he would treat me better as a lady and not badmouth me behind my back."

"I warned him of his conduct and Mr. Lowe, telling them any more negativity about you would earn them a citation on their records. They are to treat you like any other officer and you are one aboard this ship, a medical officer along with Dr. Simpson."

She stroked the cat for a long moment, feeling quite content. The captain was warm and friendly to her and she felt that she could adopt in him his confidence about what really happened between her and Blaine Wilson. "Might I ask your confidence, sir?"

He recognized her uneasiness and warmly reassured her that she could tell him anything and he would not betray her confidence to anyone. With Abdul on her lap, Lara drew strength from the captain and the cat to give voice to what had indeed happened between her and Blaine.

"It was 10 years ago and in my time that would have made it about 2002. I was diagnosed with a serious chronic sickness and spent more time in the hospital than I did going to school that year. Blaine was jealous of all the attention that I got, making fun of me, calling me a hypochondriac, all that nastiness. When I graduated the next year, he kept picking on me, as we lived near each other in the same neighborhood. My parents died, he mocked me and was generally negative during that time. He seemed to have cleaned up his act over the next 2 years, for when I saw him, he would be sweet and gentle towards me and I agreed to live with him for a spell when my house was being renovated. Blaine took me out to supper where he had way too many drinks, we went home, and he abused me cruelly. I was left with a fractured larynx so I couldn't talk for awhile, broken left arm, amongst some internal injuries."

"Oh sweet Lord," Rostron was almost speechless. Even the cat seemed agitated and nudged Lara's hand, asking for more caresses. She resumed her ear rubbing and the purring started up again. "do I dare ask what next?"

"After that he left me alone for a year, then he comes back on my doorstop all slobbering drunk and he asks me to marry him! I laughed at him and called the police on him as he was threatening to hurt me again. Six months later he was released, and I became deathly sick at the same time. One does not need to be a detective to figure out he was behind my illness."

"What was it?"

"The stupid cops finally got up off their fat rears and listened to the doctor as he told him someone had been deliberately poisoning me with arsenic!"

Rostron's jaw dropped open. Imagine hurting that sweet lady! he thought to himself. "Now he's in this reality with our soldiers. Any theories?"

"Because God wanted him to die in battle?" Lara shrugged. "He's sworn to kill me because I humiliated him and he seems to think that if he can't have me, nobody can."

"Well, he'd have to go through me, my dear," Rostron stood up. "any of my subordinates will tell you that I am not afraid to throw a few punches if there is need for it."

Lara did not speak, but she gave him a look of gratitude. The captain gave her a tight hug of reassurance as Abdul stretched out and yawned lazily as the clock chimed 8 p.m.

"Time for the passengers to board. Oh, and I've assigned a guard to you at all hours. During the day, you will have Mr. Boxhall with you. During the night, it is Mr. Lightoller."

Lara groaned. "What about Mr. Murdoch? I quite like him."

"He likes you too. I hope that you and Mr. Lightoller will be able to have a working relationship. It's mostly he that needs an attitude adjustment and not you." he showed her out. "In the meantime, at your surgery station, if you please." Rostron gave her an encouraging smile as Murdoch and Lightoller took their places at the 2 gangway entrances, passenger list in hand, ready to check off names.

Lara pulled on scrubs along with Dr. Simpson, and the two started to talk medicine while they were waiting. Dr. Simpson sat at his desk while Lara sat on one of the visitor's chairs, her feet up on his desk.

"All right, how about upper right side pain, nausea, vomiting, might resolve in a few hours?" he quizzed.

"Gallbladder trying to pass a stone or cholelithiasis."

"Spitting up blood?"

"Hemoptysis."

"Heart speeding up or slowing down?"

"Tachy or bradycardia."

"Mental disease?"

"Psychosis."

"Fugue?"

"Flight."

"Diabetes?"

"Insulin deficiency."

"Very good." they were about to start another round when a steward came in, supporting a young man who was sweating and breathing heavily.

"Gunshot wound as he was leaving. Seems he didn't make any friends." Simpson assessed as he helped the guy lie down on a gurney. "Looks like one for the x-ray." he took his patient off and Lara took the next one, a person with similar wounds.

Soon, they were working like crazy. Simpson and Lara dug out gunshot wounds, cleaned, cauterized, stitched up, then put them into recovery for an hour. When they woke up from the drugs, the stewards took them to preassigned rooms.

"I don't know if I can save this one's arm..." Simpson cauterized the bleeding and looked at the wound closely.

"You can do it! Can you do an AVG?"

"I think so. This cadaver over here will have a good one." Simpson opened up the cadaver and harvested a vein so that blood flow could be restored the patient's arm. Lara sutured her patient's skin with interrupted sutures and stood by to help Simpson as he attached the vein to the two cut ends of the previous one. The skin warmed in a minute and turned pink and healthy. Lara grinned, complimented her colleague, then helped him suture closed the skin layers.

By the time they were done, it was midnight and both were exhausted. The stewardesses were looking after the patients and Simpson was on call that night. Lara entered the antechamber where the sinks were and was startled to see Lightoller there. He looked at her, starting at the sight of her operative gown splattered with blood. She peeled off her gloves, threw them out, then threw out her mask and cap as well. Stripping off the gown, she threw it in the laundry and took off the scrubs as well.

"You look exhausted." Lightoller observed, prompting her to scowl as she chucked the scrubs into the laundry.

"Let's get one thing straight," he stood up and Lara observed that he was only about 2 inches taller than her. "I've heard of you and Lowe badmouthing me behind my back. I don't like you and I know you don't like me. Thankfully you're with me while I'm asleep, so be civil."

Lightoller was unused to women being so forward and controlling towards him. He closed his mouth and walked her to her room, telling her that all the passengers were embarked safely and they were pulling out from the pier as he was speaking. Everything had gone smoothly on their end of things. Captain Rostron was pleased as well, wanting Simpson to report to him first thing in the morning about the wounded.

"Everything did go well on your end, good," she felt her eyelids starting to close. "are you insinuating things didn't go well on the medical end?"

"No, I mean no offense."

"Honestly you can be so condescending without even knowing it, Charles." Lara opened up her room and went into the bathroom to change. Lightoller pulled up a seat near to her bed and turned on the bedside table lamp. He pulled out a book he had stashed in his pocket, pulled off his uniform jacket and draped it over the back of his chair. Lara came out wearing canary yellow pajamas and got into bed. With a muttered goodnight, she went right to sleep.

When he had reached the end of his book, it was near 3 in the morning. Lightoller shut it with a sigh and kept his gun with handcuffs handy in his uniform coat pocket. The first officer studied the young surgeon intently, admiring the way she slept. She had fallen asleep facing him, her right arm bent at the elbow and her arm was positioned up so that the back of her hand was visible. Lara's nails were trim and ladylike, shaped into ovals. She had about a quarter inch of nail growth to elongate her nails and give her a more ladylike appearance. Her left arm was right below her right one, crossing over to her right side and dangling off of her hip. She looked very serene to Lightoller's eyes and he watched her steady respirations for a long moment.

When morning came, Lightoller woke up at 7 a.m. Boxhall would come at 8 and he wanted to straighten himself up a little before the junior officer came in. His back was stiff from sleeping in a chair, his neck hurt, but he was content. Lightoller cleaned up the best he could and put the chair back by the desk where it belonged. Lara had not moved an inch all night, something that had rather impressed Lightoller.

A few minutes later, Lara made a sleepy sound and Lightoller looked down at her as she opened up her eyes and stretched.

"Good morning, Lara."

"Good morning, Charles." Lara sat up and started brushing her hair. "Hopefully I don't look a fright."

"No, you don't." he said truthfully. "Joseph will meet you in the officer's mess for breakfast."

"All right, let me get ready." she disappeared into the bathroom where she dressed in a light green maxi dress with sandals. Pulling her hair back into a braid, she reemerged and followed Lightoller onto the deck.

"I trust you slept well all night," he said politely as they walked. "you didn't move an inch from what I could see."

"It was rather restful, yes." she agreed. "Of course, I was surprised that I could sleep at all with that enemy of mine so near."

"Pardon me, but how did you and he come to well, this?"

To his surprise, Lara did not get angry with him. "You should know, you and Joseph. Why don't we all breakfast together and I'll tell you?" a good night's sleep had mellowed her out and she did not show any of the previous signs of antipathy towards him that she had last night. The 3 met up and as suggested, they breakfasted together and Lara told them the story.

"So he had spiked my well water at the house with arsenic and I got deathly sick," she watched their reactions. Boxhall was shocked, eyes wide, jaw open. Lightoller wore a similar look of outrage, his brows furrowed in anger. "the cops took him into prison but he was let out after a few months due to overcrowding. I moved away and had nothing to do with him ever again."

"I should think not!" Boxhall sputtered. "That... that.."

"Rostron, mate." Lightoller said in a low voice. Boxhall composed himself and they glanced over at the captain politely, returning his good morning salutation.

Checking in with Simpson, Lara was happy to discover that there were no relapses of any sort and the wounded were very quiet. She and Boxhall enjoyed themselves in the swimming pool and went to the library for some quiet time. It was a bit chilly that day so they stoked up a fire in the fireplace and went back to their books. Boxhall was dozing by the time 3 p.m. rolled around and one of the wireless operators found Lara sitting by the fire in a chaise lounge, reading quietly while her guard slept.

"Dr. Sheridan? The captain sent me to get you."

"What do you want?" she was never tolerant of others interrupting her reading time.

"The _Lusitania_ went down today off the old Head of Kinsale, the Irish coast. The captain wants all the officers in his cabin for a quick prayer service."

"We'll be right there. Thank you, Bride." Harold Bride nodded and left. Lara roused Boxhall and they went to the captain's cabin, greeting all the other officers as they entered. Rostron greeted them all and informed him what they were going to do. A prayer circle was then assembled and Rostron asked them all to join hands. Lara found herself between Murdoch and Lowe and she smiled at Murdoch as they joined hands. Lowe gave her a nod, a hint of a smile on his features as he took her other slender hand in his. Murdoch gave her a warm squeeze and Lowe rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as they all bowed their heads for the prayer the captain gave. A moment of silence followed, and that was it.

Everyone looked at Lara who pretended innocence for a moment. "This is goading the US into the war. Of course we're at war now, gentlemen. We have been for a year or so now, there's no other way to put it."

The officers filed out, Boxhall and Lara going to the surgery to check up on the patients. Simpson was off getting some rest, so Lara sat at the office and was on call in case something happened to one of the passengers. It was a credit to their work that none of the wounded developed any kind of infection and were all mending very well.

Supper came and went, then Boxhall left to do his rounds and turn in for the night. Lightoller appeared with far less animosity on his face and he even addressed her in endearing terms now, his opinion of her had changed since the previous day.

"How long until we get the boys off the ship?" on the boat deck, a sharp wind snapped at Lara's black hoodie, making the unused hood billow out behind her like a hot air balloon.

"About another 2 days. We've been asked to dock in Liverpool not Southampton as that's where the army base is," he answered her.

Lara made a noise of pain and looked at her left arm, prompting Lightoller to ask her if everything was all right. "Just my left arm. It bothers me when there's bad weather coming."

"BITCH!" came a wild cry. A man dressed in corduroys and raggedy work shirt came up from the grand staircase and made a dive for Lara. Lightoller tried to get a hold of Wilson but he was too fast for him. Lara fought back for all she was worth, but she was soon overcome by the sheer strength Wilson possessed. He dealt Lightoller such a blow that he crashed against the gym wall and saw stars. Through a haze of pain, he saw Wilson grab Lara by the throat and hike her up against the wall. She struggled, but the man's hands were crushing her airway. Lightoller could not understand or even really hear what Wilson was saying, but he knew it wasn't good at any rate. He staggered up and amid the thinning haze of pain he was in, he brought up both his arms and crashed his knuckles down on the back of Wilson's head, knocking him out completely.

Lara fell like a discarded rag doll, flopping limply to the deck. The first officer rushed over to her, saying her name, but she did not rouse. He quickly checked her pulse which was faint, and with shock and horror, discovered that she wasn't breathing. Picking her up off the deck, he dashed over to the surgery to get Dr. Simpson to take a look at her.

Simpson was reading a medical journal and was taken by surprise when Lightoller came in, bearing the limp body of their junior surgeon. He jumped up in surprise and concern when Lightoller started babbling on about someone attacking her.

"She can't breathe!" Simpson mounted her like he would a horse and began to resuscitate her, thumping down on her chest and breathing into her mouth. "It's a bloody miracle her heart didn't stop!" he slammed his fists down onto her ribcage with such force he felt one crack. Underneath his hands, Lara jerked once and gasped, drawing a shaky breath into her oxygen-deprived lungs. Simpson smiled as he climbed off of her as she hacked and coughed. Lightoller watched her for a moment and turned to the doctor.

"Will she need to be here overnight, sir?"

"No, she can go right to her own cabin." just then, Rostron and Murdoch barged into the room.

"I heard that Wilson attacked the Master-at-arms and let himself out," Rostron was tight-lipped. "then Mr. Murdoch finds him collapsed on the deck. I assume he attacked Lara and Mr. Lightoller dealt him that blow?"

"Yes sir." Lightoller admitted in a hoarse whisper.

"You got here just in time, sir. I had to restart her breathing-she wasn't when Mr. Lightoller here brought her in." Simpson noticed Lightoller looked a little punch-drunk. "Mr. Lightoller, were you attacked as well?"

"A knock to the head." Simpson immediately began to examine him carefully. Murdoch and Rostron looked at Lara, whose breathing had settled down into normal rhythm by then and she had opened up her eyes.

"Wilson has been put in irons and he won't be going anywhere now, I hope," Murdoch told her. "I'm glad you seem to be all right."

"Who cracked one of my ribs?" she hoarsely asked. "Man, this hurts!"

"I'm afraid that was me, Lara," Simpson checked Lightoller's eyes. "I had to pound on you pretty hard to restart your lungs."

"Where's Charles?" Lara could not sit up on account of the pain in her chest. "Is he all right?"

"He has a slight concussion and he'll be in some pain. I'll help him to his room along with Mr. Murdoch here, give him an injection of morphine so he'll sleep tonight." Simpson decided, filling a syringe with the appropriate dose.

"As for you, Dr. Sheridan, I'm taking you into my cabin where I know you will be safe for the night," Rostron assisted her up gently. "perhaps the good doctor will give you some pain medicine too when he's done with Mr. Lightoller here."

"I will, sir. Come on, Mr. Lightoller, you don't want to sleep here." Murdoch and Simpson got the wounded first officer to his bunk while Rostron and Lara went to his cabin.

Lightoller succumbed easily to the effects of morphine, closing his eyes and falling deeply asleep while Murdoch opened the connecting door between their rooms. He sat down and read for an hour until he was drowsy enough to sleep as well.

In the captain's cabin, Lara had been given the dose of opiate necessary to relieve her discomfort and Simpson had also given her a sedative as well to help her sleep. Rostron sat in his sitting room until she had changed to go to sleep and Simpson had left. His faithful cat jumped on him and begging for an ear rub, got one.

All the while, the captain's mind was far away, dwelling on Wilson and why he was only given short jailtime sentences. He was British not German, so he couldn't be jailed for that... his mind spun with ideas on how to get the loon lifetime jail sentences or even an audience with a firing squad. Maybe Rostron could twist the truth a bit so there would be no parole hearings for the rest of Wilson's sordid life... Rostron wondered halfheartedly if Wilson could swim...

"Perhaps if I telegraphed the admirality's office and let them know what Wilson was up to.. let's go from there." Rostron wrote out a telegram that was accordingly sent.

SHIP'S SURGEON ATTACKED STOP. BADLY BEATEN STOP. REQUEST AUDIENCE WITH FIRING SQUAD STOP. CRIMINAL IS BLAINE WILSON STOP.

Rostron had it sent immediately despite the late hour and he knew that admirality's message service would see that it got to its destination. Perhaps after the _Lusitania'_s demise, people would be hungry for revenge and Wilson might satisfy their hunger to some extent. The fact that Lara would be serving in wartime if it came to that would make people vociferous in Wilson's demise. Smiling slightly to himself, Rostron went to his writing desk and took up a pen. He often wrote for the Daily Telegraph and he would use that to his advantage on this matter.

The fact that he was well liked would play in his favor as well. Rostron searched his mind for the right prose and wording, then scribbled down madly on about 3 sheets of paper. Towards 1 a.m., he posted the missive, hiding a smile on his face.

Lara did not sleep very well that night after the pain medicine wore off. She tried to cope with the dull throbbing and when she couldn't bear it anymore, she tried to get up, but discovered that she needed help. Rostron was asleep on the chaise lounge near his bed and she didn't want to wake him up after he'd been so kind to her.

Once after surgery for an unrelated matter, Lara had trouble getting up as well. Back then, she had propped herself up with pillows and once during her hospital stay when the bed wouldn't tilt forward, she slid herself off the bed horizontally like she was playing limbo with her friends. Lara tried it then, sliding off and shifting her weight to her legs. The impact caused her to groan in pain which woke up the captain. He started in surprise and asked her what she was doing.

"The pain medicine wore off and I can't quite maneuver out of bed yet," she flushed red. Rostron had considerable expertise in keeping his face straight while his subordinates blundered around him and it paid off now. He maneuvered the injured woman back onto the bed while propping her up with several pillows. She reclined back, more comfortable now and even her pain had been reduced.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"I think so, sir. I do thank you, you've been so good to me."

"All in a day's work." he looked pleased with himself and her progress. "We dock soon and I've telegraphed to ask whether Wilson can face the firing squad."

"He doesn't learn so I hope they'll take care of him." Lara said savagely. "I'm not bloodthirsty sir, but when a criminal doesn't learn his lesson, then what can you do with him?"

"I agree." he settled back down on his chaise lounge and the both of them went to sleep.

The next morning, Simpson arrived at Lightoller's cabin to examine him. He was pronounced fit for duty and released from doctor's care. Murdoch was charged with looking after his old friend, a task which he somberly assumed.

At the same time, Lara was looked over by her colleague and was told to stay lying down for another few hours. She protested but the captain and Simpson overrode her on that, pointing out that too much exertion would only make her relapse. She grudgingly submitted and was helped back to her own room by Lowe and Boxhall.

Rostron got a wire from the admirality, saying that the firing squad had been authorized and they would assemble on the stern tomorrow morning to shoot the criminal. Amazed, Rostron briefly wondered if he'd done the right thing, but dismissed that as he knew Wilson would never change. The captain went over Lara's story in his mind again, the beating, the broken arm, the attempted poisoning, the attack last night. It wasn't for him to decide what fate Wilson would meet, but it was Lara's. He put on his hat and went to her room, knocking once.

Moody was there talking to Lara. They both looked up and saw Rostron enter, so Moody bid adieu and went to his own cabin to sleep.

"Lara, this just arrived." he handed her the wire. "Do you wish him to meet his end this way?"

"I do, sir. I have wished for it for years now. He won't change, he won't stop hunting me!" her voice broke and the stresses of the past several days seemed to break free from her mind. "What on earth have I done, sir, to get his undenying hate of me? I've just been me and he wants to kill me!"

The frustration must have been on her mind of late apart from everything else. Rostron could tell that Lara hadn't had a night's sleep without at least one dream of Wilson terrorizing her. What could he say to her to ease her mind from the subject of her enemy?

"You were yourself and some people are envious of you, wishing they could be like you are. Lara, you are assertive, funny, attractive, and you don't take any backtalk. Possibly this Wilson had poor examples of parents when he was growing up." he wanted to hug her but he didn't think her injured rib could take it.

"Makes sense," she admitted, watching him with bright eyes. "seems like one always has to have enemies in this world."

"But more friends than enemies," he reminded her affectionately. "I hope you will consider me a friend even when we're not on a ship together."

Lara smiled as he kissed the back of her hand. "Tomorrow on the stern deck, sir? I want to be the last thing he sees before he gets shot."

"Revenge?" he paused in opening the door.

"No. Vindication." she smiled and settled back, closing her eyes.

The next day they arrived at Liverpool, then the disembarkation began. While the junior officers oversaw the majority of the disembarkation, Murdoch and Lightoller along with Rostron, walked the criminal to the stern deck. Lara, knowing her choice of clothes would be frowned upon in port, had gotten into a dark coral pink dress and brown shawl, her hair pinned back from her face.

"Ah, my little whore," Wilson leered at her in passing. He was dirty, unshaven, and his green eyes only lit up when he had lust or violence on his mind. "fancy a tryst?"

"Step along!" Murdoch barked in his best officer voice, winking at Lara as they passed. She was still in some throbbing pain from her rib, but nodded back to Murdoch as they steered Wilson towards the end of the stern deck. Due to the restricted space, they only had 4 gunmen on board to do the execution. The captain of the marines took over as Murdoch took one of Lara's hands, then Lightoller took the other one to give her a sense of security.

Rostron gave her a look of encouragement as the marines counted down from 5 and shot. Wilson fell, dead.

"Sir? Admiral Gregory wants to speak to you in the wheelhouse." Moody came up and told the captain, shooting Lara a glance. Rostron excused himself and went to the wheelhouse while Murdoch and Lightoller became concerned about Lara. She was shaking visibly, eyes fixed on the corpse that the marines put in a box and took away.

The trio of officers said nothing but led Lara back to the boat deck near the bridge. She was able to get onto a deck chair gingerly without pain now and she was grateful when Murdoch and Moody went about their business as usual, along with Lightoller. In a state of shock, she counted the seagulls darting about the coast and watched some other White Star Line ships disembark and embark passengers.

"Ah, here she is!" Admiral Gregory, a big burly man with good humor written into his face, walked out of the wheelhouse and sat down next to Lara, followed by Rostron. She looked from Gregory to Rostron and the latter gave her a kind smile, meaning that she could talk to him.

"Dr. Sheridan, I am so sorry for what that criminal has done to you," he began. "I approved the firing squad as soon as the telegram came in from the ship. You see, my daughter was harassed by that same man and eventually he killed her due to massive injuries she sustained when he was drunk. He has caused so much devastation and I swore one day I would avenge my daughter. I am very glad he did not get you."

Lara acknowledged this in a subtle manner. "I am sorry for your loss, sir." he kissed the back of her hand.

"Thank you, doctor." with a salute to Rostron, Gregory left the ship.

"Well, war's coming." Rostron stated.

"What is our next adventure, sir?" Lara asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. Rostron laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Alternate Reality Story 2

Warpath

"This, gentlemen, will be your first autopsy," Lara announced. She was on shore leave for 9 hours so she could give the lecture, though she had to be back on the _Titanic_ at 10 p.m. Simpson was giving a similar lecture just 10 blocks away to another medical school. "I warn you, this is when we weed out the squeamish and the people who only think they can handle it. If you are of strong constitutions, I think you stand a good chance of passing this lecture." she rolled up her sleeves and donned a pair of surgical gloves, telling all the students to do the same.

There had been some resistance initially to when Admiral Gregory had suggested that she and Dr. Simpson do this. Not so much resistance to Dr. Simpson because he was a man, though Lara was quite tough and knew what she was doing. Because of the shortage of doctors in port because of the war, Gregory had undermined his superiors and managed to get Lara into the operating ampitheater with a class of undergraduates who were willing to learn. Admiral Gregory had developed a warm, almost paternal interest in Lara, and he wanted to see what the undergraduate class would make of her.

"So she really is giving the lecture to the undergraduates?" Murdoch and Lightoller, along with Moody, were walking down the hall at the medical school.

"Yes she is, James," Lightoller and the others turned to look down below at the operating ampitheater where Lara was picking up a scalpel. Through the vents in the glass, they could hear her giving her lecture. "I'm glad it's not me down there."

Murdoch chuckled as Lara began the lecture.

"Outward appearances of the corpse first, gather your impressions. You see the skin is unblemished, there are no signs of foul play. Her scalp is healthy with a nice sheen going through her hair which indicates she didn't have-"

"Malnourishment." one student volunteered.

"Good. How did you dope that one?"

"Malnourishment can change a person's hair texture, it can become dull and feel like hay."

"Good. The eyes are clear and bright, the face isn't sunken, the lips have a mild blue of cyanosis, which normally happens after death. The nails and the feet will be blue as well. To open up the corpse, we start with a Y incision, starting at the 2 clavicles here," she put her scalpel at the clavicle line diagonally and made a V. At the base of the V, she made a long cut. "and with a long transverse incision running down the line here, we take some tools and anchor the two sides open so it doesn't snap shut on us." a metallic clicking was heard. "We usually start at the top and work our way down normally. Observe the arteries and viscera of all the major organs that you can see give no evidence of degenerative disease. Now, we start dissecting out the organs and weighing them. I want you to split into teams of 3 and I assume you all know how to separate and ligate the organ I will tell you to extract?" a flurry of head nodding went on around her. "You 3 remove the lungs, you 3 take the liver..." she assigned them all organs except the uterus, which she would extract later on.

"One member of the team will extract the organ, one will weigh it, the other will record the weight and appearance." Lara directed them as one from each team tied on a mask.

Supervising them and watching carefully, the teams had dissected out the organs they were assigned, weighed and recorded the findings. Lara gathered the sheets of notes from each team and displayed the organs in formaldehyde she had told them to preserve them in.

"Heart, normal.. The liver is as well..." she picked through them until her eyes spotted the kidneys. "Aha! Who can tell me what these bubblelike nodules are? Yes?"

"Polycystic kidney disease."

"Very good. Looking at these, we can tell that these were not the cause of death, the disease does not look advanced enough." Lara sorted out the bladder and the bowels, both looked normal. "What does this remind you of?"

"Hiatal hernia." the stomach was cut open and a small hernia was seen towards the fundus.

"Great. Now, I will open up the uterus and see what we can find." Lara performed blunt dissection through the mesentery and omentum, then ligated the uterine body, freeing up the horns as well. One of the students brought over a small table stand and she plopped the organ on top of it. "Given that the polycystic kidney disease was not advanced enough to cause any harm, the clue has to be in either the uterus or the brain," she opened up the pear shaped organ and was surprised when a copious amount of fluid emitted from it. "look at what we have here..." Lara wiped the fluid out and saw a tiny fetus curled up in one corner. "This mother was with child. Gather around and see if you can tell the gestational age." amid some guessing, one speculated that it was 12 weeks. "How can you tell, sir?"

"The body is fully formed and the heart is formed as well which suggests more than 7 weeks. You see the fetus is starting to develop the limbs and ears which generally happens around this time." he explained.

"Good reasoning, lad. Yes, this 12 week old unborn is about that time frame. At this early stage, the mother was probably not aware she was with child as there is no outward physical evidence of it. Notice the body of this organ is not distended and swelled up very much, so she may have thought the morning sickness was just something that she ate," Lara grinned. "that is not the cause of death, however. Now we enter the brain."

The brain had already been extracted and it was sitting on another table. "All lack of evidence points to the brain so I will perform a transverse incision, splitting it down the 2 hemispheres." the gray matter yielded easily. "You can see that the sulci and gyri are all completely normal. Between the 2 ventricles of the brain, we see the matter is completely normal. I'm not satisfied with that so I will cut into the ventricles and see what we can find. Aha!"

"A lesion?" one of the students leaned in for a closer look.

"Exactly so. Lesions of the brain can cause seizures, or random muscle contractions of the limbs. Seizures can be small or petit mal, or big like grand mal which is what this young woman obviously suffered from. Grand mal seizures sometimes kill and that's what you have here. It might be an inherited condition like epilepsy, but we will likely never know."

The others nodded. "Right. That's the end of the lecture." they applauded her and she grinned, shooing them out of the ampitheater. Lara was greeted by her friends as she sutured up the body and dumping the uterus in formaldehyde and pickling the brain. She drew a sheet over the body and turned to her friends.

"Hello, gentlemen. Catch my lecture?"

"How can you do that stuff? Cutting up a body?" Murdoch wrinkled his nose as he smelled the formaldehyde.

"Practice. I disassociate myself from the person this once was and just go for it. It's routine for me now." she stripped off the gloves and threw them out, taking off the mask, throwing it away and washing her hands. When she was ready, she left the ampitheater with the men.

"So where are we going now?" they reboarded the _Titanic_, going up the gangplank. Rostron met them and ushered them into his cabin where Boxhall and Lowe already were.

"It looks like we are heading to Turkey. Gallipoli to be more exact. Our boys have just won the battle of Gully Ravine there, we will be helping out the wounded, taking them from the Mediterranean theater back here so they can come home. The boys that don't need attention will be coming aboard as well, we have plenty of room for them."

"We only have 2 surgeons, sir."

"Yes, Mr. Murdoch. That's why the majority of the wounded are to be taken on board the _Britannic_. We are to haul the rest of them to England or bust."

The ship had been newly painted in dazzle camouflage to confuse enemy submaries and U-boats, confirming her status as an auxiliary cruiser now. In the hands of the British navy, the _Titanic_ was one of the biggest ships available to ferry troops, as the admirality thought her size would be an asset. Rostron had his doubts, but he was going to do the best he could with what he had.

"So, that's what is coming down the pipeline to us," Rostron finished up. "we just took in a new supply of medical equipment and the like, of which Dr. Simpson is overseeing at the moment. It will be a week long cruise to get to the boys over in Turkey, so I suggest you all start keeping a watchful eye on the shore batteries as we go past Spain. Keep an eye out for torpedo trails in the water as well."

"Yes sir." they got up and left the cabin.

During the next few days, the lookouts kept a sharp eye out for anything suspicious and the officers doubled their efforts. Simpson and Lara quizzed each other and looked forward to helping the wounded out at Gallipoli.

About 2 days of almost straight surgery followed as the soldiers embarked. Lara was pale and tired, and so was Simpson. They both worked tirelessly and kept each other sane through the tense hours. The deck officers were similarly on edge, trying to keep the ship afloat and on the way back to Southampton with their cargo. Rostron was stressed, having gotten little sleep due to the worry that a German U-boat might have been lurking in the water nearby.

When the injured were quiet, Lara had noted the atmosphere of palpable tenseness and fearfulness that had settled over the ship. A sharp stabbing pain assaulted her in the belly, too far down to be her injured rib that was slowly healing. Thinking nothing of it, she shrugged it off an moved on. She had lost about 4 soldiers on the table and the feeling of depression was only compounded by the fact that she hadn't eaten anything in the past 8 hours and was feeling listless and tired. The young surgeon made her way to the bridge, hoping some small talk with Murdoch or Lightoller would cheer her up a bit.

"Hi, Will," she forced a cheerful tone into her voice. "how are things up here?"

But he was more tense than any two people put together, being officer of the watch. Lara was so tired she failed to notice the muscles bunching at his jawline, the anxiety clearly written in his face as 2 destroyers engaged a U boat, drawing them from the ship's path. He clenched his hands together, swearing with impatience as the U boat took far too long to adjust the position so the ship could avoid them. He turned to Lara, failing to notice how exhausted she was as well, as the quartermaster steered on behind them in the wheelhouse.

"This blasted U boat won't turn its course!" he fumed. "Damnit, do you know how long we'll be here? Till the end of the ruddy war!"

"Now Will, those things are long and they take some-"

"Stop it, woman! Why don't you go back to the surgery to be useful!" he spat out, clutching at the ship's telegraph firmly, ready to signal with full speed. Lara reeled back like she'd been struck, putting a hand to her face. The stabbing pain came back and she put a hand to her belly, trying to soothe it enough so that it lessened. It did after a moment and she turned around to leave the bridge.

As she left, she saw Lightoller in a similarly bad mood stalking past her, and she decided to try to be friendly. "Hello, Charles."

"Don't ruddy talk to me!" he snapped out. "It's bad enough that you let 4 of the men die!"

Lara could not take it anymore. She fled into her room, locked the door, and flung herself onto her bed. Depression enveloped her and she would have started to cry if it wasn't for the stabbing pain in her stomach again.

"Oh, god," she moaned. "it should have been me instead of the soldiers... aaughh!" the pain stabbed at her again, more sharply than ever. Lara tried to get up and run a cold washcloth over her face to try to calm herself down, but her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Grasping the chair leg nearest to her, she got up and steadied herself, taking off her uniform jacket and hanging it up. The young surgeon accomplished her mission and when the pain stabbed at her again, she tried to massage it away, but that didn't help her.

"What is happening to me?" Lara took off her shoes and sat down on the bed, trying to come up with a diagnosis but failed as the pain kept stabbing at her again and again. As she laid down, the whole room began to twist and spin around her like she was on a roller coaster ride at an amusement park.

"Damn.. it should have been me," she moaned, clutching at a pillow as the pain lanced through her belly. "should have been me.. just let me die.."

Writhing in pain, she moaned some more as the pain turned constant, gnawing at her belly and seemingly wanting to eat her alive. She wondered briefly if this was punishment for losing the soldiers she had operated on, but dismissed the theory. Her hand massaged the area in a futile manner, though the pain did decrescendo and seem to vanish in a few minutes. Almost whimpering in relief, she curled up on her side where it did not hurt her so badly. Lara let a few tears roll down her face but she did not cry for long, as exhaustion carried her off into a disturbed sleep.

Once the U boat had moved off the ship's course, Murdoch was much happier. He went off watch and found Rostron down in the surgery where he was talking to Simpson. Murdoch stood quietly as the two conferred with each other, Simpson giving him the report of the wounded. The two talked for at least 10 minutes and Murdoch was starting to get impatient when Rostron looked at Simpson with his blue eyes and asked point-blank "So where is Dr. Sheridan, Dr. Simpson?"

"I haven't seen her since this morning, sir." Simpson told him, checking the clock. It was 6 p.m. and time for supper. With the wounded quiet, Simpson went into the mess hall with some of the nurses and off duty stewards, leaving Rostron to puzzle over Lara's disappearance. She normally made the report with Simpson, as she would never leave the captain hanging. Lara was fond of Captain Rostron like he was of her and so her absence was all the more palpable now. He turned to Murdoch, looking concerned. Upon their talking, they walked outside Lara's door as they went to the mess hall, where Rostron tried the door to find out it was locked. Mystified, he assumed that Lara had gone to bed in her cabin, but she never locked her door in case she was urgently needed. He went to the mess hall as well where all the officers were gathered, talking quietly.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Rostron greeted them. "been one crazy day hasn't it?"

"Indeed it has, sir," Boxhall agreed. "the stokers were having some trouble down in hold 4. They had gotten it sorted out by the time I got down there, unfortunately!"

"I've been down to the surgery to get a report from Dr. Simpson. Have any of you seen Lara anywhere? It's not like her to not give her report along with Dr. Simpson."

"Missing? That is unusual." Moody chimed in. "Sometimes she doesn't want to be disturbed after such a long shift and she needs to recharge her batteries, so to speak."

Murdoch glanced at Lightoller as Lowe stated that he hadn't seen Lara either. "Sir, I'm afraid I was rather tetchy with Dr. Sheridan today," he said somewhat apologetically. "I was frustrated by the U boat moving so slowly that I'm afraid that I took it out on her."

Rostron nearly let his jaw fall open. "You, Mr. Murdoch? I'd have never believed it." Murdoch was usually very even-tempered.

Lightoller cleared his throat. "I am guilty of this too, sir. I insinuated that she was responsible for those 4 soldiers' deaths."

The captain put his head in his hands. "Why would you do that to her, gentlemen? She's been working for an almost solid 24 hour shift and you should know better than to make those kinds of remarks to her! She is sensitive, believe it or don't!"

"Excuse me, sir," Simpson ran up to them. "I was passing by Dr. Sheridan's room and I heard her moaning for help. The door's locked!"

Rostron and all of the officers jumped up. Boxhall and Moody went to get a key from the armorer on board while the others went right to Lara's door. Listening intently, they didn't hear anything as Simpson looked through the porthole. "I can't see anything." he sighed.

The key was brought, Moody unlocked the door and they barged in, seeing the room shrouded in dark. "Get that blasted light on!" Rostron barked as Murdoch found the switch for the overhead light and flipped it on.

"Oh sweet Lord." Rostron and the others stood aside as Simpson began to examine his colleague. Lara was extremely pale, doubled over in pain, and a small flush of fever was evident on her cheeks. Simpson flew to her side and tried to get her to talk to him, but he could get no response.

"She's delirious," he tested her fever by laying a hand on her brow. "she's burning up like a fire! Someone grab me cold cloths, fast now!" Lowe ran off to do that duty and Simpson undressed Lara down to her t-shirt and underwear as Murdoch pulled up a sheet and put it over her. Lightoller brought out a quilted coverlet and spread that out over her as well. Simpson pushed it down a bit so he could palpate Lara's belly. Warming up his hands, he began to auscultate her abdomen and had to stop when he reached the area where she had been feeling the pain.

The officers stood by, shocked while Rostron put a cold washcloth over her brow, which seemed to soothe her a bit.

"She's incoherent, her pulse is fast, she's nonreactive to us... " Simpson stood up once Lara seemed quiet enough. "she has a stress induced flu bug. It'll go away soon."

"Are you sure, man?!" Rostron exclaimed. "It seems a lot more than just that!"

"I'm sure. I know it looks like a lot more, but it isn't." the surgeon sighed. "Stress affects everyone differently and she's been working a long shift without adequate rest. She should be fine if one of us stays with her night and day."

"Could she be moved to the surgery?" Lightoller questioned, not liking seeing Lara lying sick and helpless. Murdoch knelt and took one of her hands, but she drew it away from him with a small moan of pain.

"Our resources in the surgery are very limited and every bed is taken," Simpson shook his head. "I can give her medicine to help the pain but they all have sedative properties and using sedatives when one is delirious like this is very risky. I'd rather not do it."

"Then don't." Rostron straightened up. "I have a ship to get back to, but I want to be informed of every change. I will divide up the watches to 4 hour shifts amongst volunteers."

"I'll go first." Moody volunteered, sitting down in the desk chair he pulled up near Lara's bedside.

"Fine. I'll be in at about 7 tomorrow morning to check on her. Don't hesitate to call me if she gets worse during the night." Simpson left.

Murdoch and Lightoller looked at each other and then Lowe in turn. The Welshman had signed on for the second watch, then Boxhall would come and watch her in the night. Moody pulled out a book and began to read it, looking nonchalant in the low light of the sun setting. The junior officer may have looked nonchalant to every external eye that saw him, but he was very concerned about Lara and her illness. Often times when things were slow in the surgery and he had just come off watch, they would go to the taffrail and talk together. He liked her fiery spirit and she liked his mischievous nature.

The two senior officers left the stricken woman's room, unsure of what to do now.

At about midnight, Rostron woke up from a restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep but it was futile. Getting up, he changed back into his uniform and strolled the decks, hoping that would help him relax a bit and make him sleepy enough to go back to bed. The ship was quiet and he felt the low vibration of the reciprocating engines through his shoes as they worked down below. Pacing the deck for a few minutes, he walked by where Lowe was on watch, not acknowledging the senior officer as he went towards the surgery.

All the wounded were sound asleep which was quite rare. Rostron watched as the nurses administered to them the drugs that they needed and kept things controllable. Simpson was asleep in his room near the surgery and everything seemed tranquil enough.

Finding himself outside Lara's door, he entered quietly and watched as Boxhall administered to the sick surgeon. He was attempting to get her to drink something but she would struggle against him and turn to face the other direction.

"Rough night, lad?" Rostron sat at the edge of Lara's bed, watching her intently. She was more flushed with fever than the last time he saw her, she was incoherent and seemed to sleep restlessly. Boxhall sat back with a sigh, looking worried.

"Her fever has climbed up higher, sir. If this keeps up, then..." he couldn't finish the thought as Lara let out a pain-filled moan.

"I understand, son." Rostron stood up. "She's got pain and we need to try to soothe it away for her."

"How, sir?" Boxhall raked a hand through his black hair and watched as Rostron dumped a wet cloth into a basin of cold water. He brought the basin over, picked up the cloth, wrung it out, then began to pull back the bedclothes.

"No worries," he grinned. "I am a married man you know." he folded up the cloth and once he figured out where the pain was hitting her, Rostron put the cloth on that site. The coolness seemed to alleviate the pain Lara was feeling and he could feel her relax as he pressed down gently, massaging away the tenseness. "Add one to her forehead, Joseph." Boxhall did as told and the coolness seemed to help.

"Never underestimate the sick," Rostron continued to massage away the pain in her belly. "she's responding to you and me because Murdoch and Lightoller aren't here. Lara would react badly to them I would bet."

"Because they were rude to her, sir?"

"Very much so. Even when we are sick, it happens. Some people just make it worse, others make it better. Once they apologize to her then I bet she will get well a little faster."

"I do believe you're right, sir. Look," Boxhall picked up her hand and she let him take it, clutching onto his as he rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, making some of the veins stand out. "Murdoch tried this a little while ago and she wouldn't have anything to do with him."

"She knows," Rostron grinned as he flipped the compress over, redousing it with water to keep it cold. "who has the next watch?"

"I believe Mr. Lowe does once he gets off his shift." Boxhall did not let go of Lara's hand, offering her comfort the best he could. She turned to face him, eyes still shut, but drawing strength from his presence. Rostron smiled as he finished massaging Lara's belly, sure that the pain was gone and he pulled the covers back up as she began to shiver.

"Fever and chills," the captain said. "seems like it can't be one without the other."

"I wish I knew what she's dreaming, if she is dreaming," Boxhall watched Lara's shuttered face and changed compresses on her forehead. "poor thing."

"I'm sure she is. Look at that." they could see her eyes were moving behind her lids. "Well, Mr. Boxhall, I must get back to bed. Take good care of her and tell Mr. Lowe to take good care of her as well."

"I will, sir. Goodnight." Rostron stood up and clasped Lara's hand briefly, telling her to rest well and get better. He then left, feeling somewhat comforted as he got back to his cabin. The captain changed back into his pajamas and offered up a prayer before he got into bed.

"O Lord, please make my friend well again. Give her strength to overcome her sickness. Amen."

The next day, Moody walked down to Lara's room to relieve Lowe of his night watch over their sick friend. Lowe was asleep in the chair and Lara was looking still worse for wear as her fever had gone up during the night. Moody roused out his friend who started, then cast a look down at the young surgeon.

"How is she doing, Harold?" Lowe got up and allowed Moody to sit down in the chair. He sat at the edge of the bed where Rostron had been the night before, and looked at his friend somberly, half asleep.

"About the same." he muttered. "I was thinking, if this fever doesn't quit, she'll just burn up to nothing."

"Dr. Simpson told me what would happen if her fever continues to burn," Moody omitted the details, not willing to stress his friend more. "it doesn't look good, Harold. But I am here, so why don't you go to bed? You look exhausted."

"Do you think she'll die, James?" Lowe picked up one of Lara's hot hands and held it for a moment tenderly.

"I hope not," Moody looked appalled at Lowe's morose behavior. "why think about that right now? She will get better, Harold."

"I don't know. I can't shake the feeling." Lowe bid his friend goodbye and walked along the deck, nearly missing Murdoch and Lightoller walking by. The two senior officers looked at the other senior officer and asked how Lara was feeling.

"There's no change, gentlemen," Lowe fought to keep his eyes open. "Dr. Simpson says every moment the fever burns in her, the less likely the chance of a complete recovery."

Lightoller and Murdoch glanced at each other then back at Lowe. "Up to your room, man, get some rest." Lowe did not need further encouragement to do so. He muttered a goodbye and turned in, falling asleep in his uniform.

Dr. Simpson came in around 8, ready to fully examine Lara. The doctor did everything he could to her, checking her lungs, auscultating her heart, checking her abdomen for any masses. Everything was fine except her pulse had sped up a bit. She still had some pain in her belly, though Dr. Simpson did what Rostron had done during the night, applying cold compresses and massaging away the tenseness.

"I am about to try this drug on her," he fitted the tip of a syringe into the rubber diaphragm of an ampoule and drew out a dose. "we'll see if this will reduce her fever any."

"What is it?"

"Tetracycline. It's a broad-spectrum antibiotic that's indicated for just these types of disease." Simpson injected the medicine into Lara's arm carefully, ignoring the small cry of pain that emitted from the sick woman. He put the syringe away and waited a few minutes as Lightoller entered. The first officer looked at Lara, hoping to see some reduction of fever on her face, but he was disappointed. If anything, he saw that she was worse.

"My God," he gaped as he saw all the color, apart from the unhealthy fever red flush in her cheeks, had completely drained away, leaving her paler than ever. "what are her chances, doctor?"

"Once the antibiotic kicks in, I think she'll still have a good chance of a complete recovery." Simpson told him. Lightoller was a Christian Scientist who didn't believe in medicine at all, but his time on board the ship with two doctors treating scores of wounded was combining in his mind to make him rethink his religious beliefs. He was starting to think all the tools of the doctor's trade were instruments to heal and drugs were a tool in their arsenal to heal others.

"You think so?"

"Mr. Lightoller," Rostron had sneaked up behind him and scared him. "come now, let's let the doctor tend to her." he steered his officer away from the door and shut it tightly. "She will be fine."

"Where do you get such powerful convictions, sir?"

"By God, of course." Lightoller noted before how Rostron didn't smoke, drink, or even swear. The captain was remarkably pious, didn't approve of gambling on board his ships, and did not allow any liquor on board either. Lightoller didn't mind any of that, though when he was in port, he and Murdoch did like an occasional pint. The juniors did as well, Moody making the occasional reference to some local liquor he'd tried on his South American steamship runs.

"What denomination are you, if that's not a rude question?"

Rostron smiled. "I'm a Methodist, Charles. If you have a belief in God, he will help you."

"True, sir. Murdoch and I feel that her illness might be our own crosses to bear, after our conduct to her."

Rostron said nothing about that as they walked towards the bridge. "It's a test, one knows. A test of her strength and she will make out all right. Do you notice how the ship's so quiet today?"

It had been deserted on deck. The nonwounded party would have come up and milled around like they did yesterday, using the pools, the libraries, taking in the sun on the boat deck. "I believe once a member of the ship's crew or officers comes down sick, the entire staff feels it. Everyone is making it as quiet and trouble free as possible so that Lara can recover."

"I never thought of it that way, sir." Lightoller remarked as they met up with Murdoch on the bridge. His friend's anxious blue eyes searched for an answer on Lightoller's face to the nonverbal question he was asking. "No change yet."

"But Dr. Simpson is trying a new drug on her that will help bring her fever down," the captain chirped. "don't throw in the towel yet, gentlemen." he walked off to his room.

The day passed by slowly, everyone was remarkably quiet on board. When it came for Murdoch's watch on Lara, he entered the room on shaky legs, knowing what he would find lying in bed. The tetracycline had lowered her fever some, but it was not enough. Murdoch put a new compress on her forehead and watched her as she tensed up in pain again. Simpson had shown him how to massage away the pain from her belly and he geared himself up to do it now, warming up his hands as he drew back the covers.

Lara tried to fight him so he sent word for Lightoller who would help him with her. He arrived shortly and took Lara's hands in his, trying to soothe her but she didn't want any part of it. Lightoller became firm like he was when one of his children were being naughty.

"Listen here, Lara! You may be sick but we are trying to help you!" he took on a gentler tone of voice as Murdoch put his hands on her midsection, beginning to rub away all the tenseness. "Will and me, we're right here for you and we are sorry for the way we acted towards you. We didn't mean it." her struggling ceased and she lay back, limp while Murdoch worked.

"I guess Rostron was right," Murdoch had overheard Rostron saying that even though Lara was sick, she was still reacting to everyone's presence around her. "clever man, that one."

"Indeed, Will." Lightoller half smiled at his friend, watching him work the tension out of their friend's midsection. "There's still a lot to learn from him."

As the vigil at Lara's bedside continued, Lightoller made no motions to leave. He was where he was wanted, he felt, and would continue to be there. Murdoch sat in a small armchair near the door and dozed for awhile as the hour drew close to 2 a.m.

Lightoller took Lara's hand and was happy to see that she did not pull herself away like she had been doing to nearly everyone since she had been sick. A faint smile played upon the officer's face as he watched her hand grasp his firmly and not let go. He had observed her long and slender digits once before and he thought they were elegant and regal looking. Lightoller thought she could have been a concert pianist with such long fingers, but she went into medicine instead. Her long fingers could grip the tools that she needed and grasp things that even Dr. Simpson couldn't do. Often times she was called to help him out with digging free a piece of shrapnel from a soldier's wound.

She had colored her nails cherry red and had kept them meticulously trimmed since the last time he saw her hands up close. Lara was one of those people who did not talk with her hands so he rarely saw them. He ran his own callused fingers over hers, comparing the size inwardly.

Leaning back, not letting go of her hand, Lightoller went to sleep.

Rostron woke up around 8 that morning, his usual time, and got dressed and ready for the day. He fed Abdul and went down to the officer's mess for breakfast. Murdoch had just come off of ship watch and he was yawning, too tired to eat anything.

"How was Lara when you left her, Mr. Murdoch?"

"Her fever went down some and she seems to have stopped having those mysterious pains of hers." he revived a tiny bit with coffee. Rostron smiled and told Murdoch to get to bed as soon as he could.

Going down to check on Lara, he found Simpson making his way up the deck as the ship steamed onward. Another 4 days of good weather and they would be back home before they knew it.

"Morning, Mr. Lightoller." Rostron entered the room and sat down at the edge of the bed like he had before. "How is our patient today?"

Lightoller looked almost well rested. Doubtlessly he had slept through the night in an uncomfortable chair, but at least he wasn't near passing out with exhaustion like Murdoch was. "She seems to be turning a corner, sir." he held up his hand that was latched with hers. "She hasn't struggled for hours now."

"That is a good sign." Rostron was encouraged. He looked over at Lara and now barely saw the faintest flush of fever in her cheeks. "Dr. Simpson is on his way now."

Lightoller inclined his head as a means of saying that he heard his superior officer, then leaned down and examined Lara. He put his hand on her forehead and instead of the uncomfortable heat of a few hours ago, there was coolness and a fine sheen of sweat dampening her brow.

Thinking of his own two bouts with malaria, Lightoller knew when a person broke a sweat, their fevers were gone. He himself had been proof of this two separate times. The sweat was dampening the pillow and even her hand in his was perspiring freely. "Captain, look!"

Rostron looked over and saw the same thing. "Dr. Simpson!" he barked, sticking his head out of the doorway. "Come quickly, now!"

The surgeon stepped up the pace and was in the room before another minute had elapsed. "I think you're right, sirs. Her fever has broken finally."

"About time! She's been delirious for the past what, 12 hours or so?" Lightoller glanced at the clock. "So what do we do now?"

Simpson washed all the sweat off of Lara's face and hands, making Lightoller reluctantly let go of her. "She'll wake up soon, I wager. Sometime today and I want someone with her."

"I will be here," Rostron volunteered, taking the other 2 by surprise. "Mr. Lightoller, your watch is in 20 minutes and doctor, you need to be with the soldiers."

"God be praised," Simpson muttered. "look at that." Lara's breathing, which had been slower than normal since she got sick, was starting to revert back to normal respirations again. All 3 of them watched her breathe for a long moment, each willing her to open up her eyes and see them. "It won't be long now, sirs."

"I pray not." Rostron assumed Lightoller's seat as the latter removed Lara's damp bangs away from her closed eyelids gently. She did not stir, but they did not expect her to. The first officer and the doctor left the patient's side, ready to go about their own duties that day as Rostron settled in. Affectionately, he took her hand and was gratified to feel her returning the gesture by squeezing his hand gently. "I knew you would come through this, Lara. You're tough."

After a few minutes, Rostron cast his eyes skyward and gave thanks to the Lord that he had spared one of his officers and dear friend.

For Lara, it was like being in a whirlwind of nonsense. One minute she was lying on her bed with sharp gut pains and the next, hands were on her, countless voices trying to soothe her from her pains. She did not have the strength to react to whomever it was that with her, so she had to let them administer to her. Once, a pair of hands rubbed her where it hurt and the pain gradually lessened and disappeared. The hands kept going until she felt herself going into a deeper sleep. Several times someone would try to get her to drink water, but she refused numerous times.

It was always the voices that mystified her. Who was it and where was she exactly? She felt like one of the living dead-unable to open up her body's eyes and see for herself, but knowing that somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew who was talking to her.

At intervals, hands would massage her belly and the pain would go away, followed by a relaxing cooling sensation that she liked. Coolness was also on her head and she appreciated that as well. Voices talked to her, but she didn't know who it was or what exactly was being said. Sometimes little snippets of conversation would come into her mind.

"Never underestimate the sick," Lara felt the comforting touch massaging away her belly pain. "she's responding to you and me because Murdoch and Lightoller aren't here. Lara would react badly to them I would bet."

"Because they were rude to her, sir?"

"Very much so. Even when we are sick, it happens. Some people just make it worse, others make it better. Once they apologize to her then I bet she will get well a little faster."

What they were talking about not making any sense to her, Lara drifted off into sleep again.

"Will and me, we're right here for you and we are sorry for the way we acted towards you. We didn't mean it."

Lara went limp and relaxed back as hands were upon her yet again, massaging out her cramps and relieving the tension. Someone picked up her hand and she did not fight it. Rather, now was the time when she felt that she was in need of support and made herself grasp the hand holding hers gently, avoiding digging in with her nails. She sensed the other person's surprise for whatever reason, and the grasp was warmly returned.

When she opened up her eyes, she saw she was in her room where she expected to be. The warmth in her cheeks were gone and she felt normal again. The stabbing pains that had plagued her before had also disappeared. It was midday by the clock on her wall, and the porthole curtains had been drawn back to allow in some sun. She wanted to sit up, but knew that her head would start swimming as soon as she did and she'd likely fall out of bed. Turning her head, she saw Rostron, who was reading one of her books. _The Journal of Madam Giovanni_ to be precise.

Lara reached over to take the cup of water, forcing her hands steady. After she drank some of it, she replaced it without incident. "Sir?" she croaked out, coughing a bit to clear her airway.

Rostron looked over at her and propped her up a bit to aid her breathing. "Relax, Lara! After the condition I saw you in almost 24 hours ago, you have no need to be formal with me."

"Habit, sir." she grinned wryly. "What was wrong with me? How long has it been?"

"About 24 hours 1 hour ago," he checked the clock on the wall. "Dr. Simpson said that it was just a bug of some sort and he knew that you were exhausted and a bit malnourished after your long stint in surgery. It is partially down to the stress you were under at the time as well."

"That doesn't surprise me very much."

"It did to the rest of us!" Rostron laughed. "First off, you went missing in your own room! We didn't know what was going on as you don't lock your door in case you are needed, then when a steward I think it was tells me and the officers that he heard cries of pain coming from your room, we didn't know what to expect. Moody got a key and we all came in here and you gave us the shock of our lives. Simpson sorted you out and I've had to add another watch here."

"Whoa. All I remember is a heat, voices, coldness, intense pain and that was about it."

"I would hope. Your natural color is starting to come back already."

"Good, I guess." she said a bit breathlessly and looked up when someone else came into her room.

"Oh, you're awake!" Lowe beamed. "Dr. Simpson will be here soon to examine you. How are you feeling?"

"Weak as hell." Rostron did not admonish Lara for her swearing. Lowe chuckled and wanted to hug her, but he didn't want to muss up her bed or hurt her in any way.

"I'm very glad you're awake." he told her, holding her hand. She felt her eyelids getting heavy.

"Not for long, Harold." Lara grinned meekly as Lowe and Rostron both laughed.

"Yes that's true. Well, we can excuse you and tell you to go to sleep. You'll feel better later."

"Thank God for you guys." Rostron almost started as Lara fell asleep. Had she heard him in his prayer?

Dr. Simpson came in then and Lowe left, casting a glance at his friend, treasuring the moment of seeing her lying in bed sleeping peacefully. Rostron nodded at him his goodbye, then stayed through Simpson's examination of her.

"Well, sir," Dr. Simpson stood up and stretched. "a textbook recovery if I do say so myself. She should be in bed for another day or two, then she can start going ambulatory, nothing too stressful, just walking around the ship a bit. There doesn't need to be a watch here anymore, though she is still shaky and will be for a few days, so it is best if someone can walk with her when she's ready."

"We will approach that when the time comes, John." Rostron topped up the water glass and stood up himself. "I suppose we can start feeding her again? When she wakes up, she will be hungry."

"Yes sir." Simpson beamed. "Always a good sign!"

The following day, Lara got up from her bed and was surprised to find how her muscles were protesting any movement. Quietly, she cleaned up and put a fresh pair of pajamas on, a move which tired her easily. The surgeon sat at her desk and watched as the two stewards stripped her bed and moved the sheets off to the laundry to get washed. The other steward made up her bed as she gently stretched her sore muscles.

"Muscle atrophy," she explained to Simpson when he came in to take a look at her. "have to gently build them back up again."

"One step ahead of me, you are." they chatted while he examined her, then gave her limited license to go ambulatory. Lara chose to stay in her room for that day, writing letters and being quiet. She had some visitors, Harold Cottam from the wireless room, some of the nurses she had gotten friendly with, and a few patients of hers that were already mended from their wounds. Nobody stayed very long, perhaps about 30 minutes, as Simpson had told everyone that she was still very weak and fragile, her stamina wasn't what it was. Lara would build it back up again and she would be back to her old self soon enough.

It was a long day for her, punctuated by visits and catnaps when she was tired. When she woke up the next day, she was astonished to find that she had slept for nearly 10 hours.

A knock on her door sounded, and Lara, dressed in her tan chinos, sneakers, and a bright yellow tank top, answered the door. Lowe stood there, watching her affectionately as she tilted her head to put in her star earrings. She fumbled at first and swore until she found the hole the post would go through, then put the backing on behind her ear. The star was gold-colored and in the center of the star was a tiny diamond.

"Harold, to what do I owe the honor?"

"Walk with me to breakfast, Lara?" he held out his arm and she took it.

"Of course," she smiled, the first time she had smiled since she had been sick. "I trust the others will be surprised to see me."

"Most likely," Lowe teased her. "scared the bejabbers out of all of us when you were so ill. I must say that at one point, we feared for your life."

"Well, it had its chance to carry me off to those pearly gates and it failed," she flippantly remarked as they opened up the door. "I am all the better for it."

Lowe giggled and gestured her in. The other officers looked up and they all smiled as they saw Lara join them, taking a seat between Boxhall and Murdoch. The latter was a little shy, not knowing just how he should react to her after their spat on the bridge days ago. Lightoller looked equally socially awkward around her as the captain began to ask Lara questions.

"How are you feeling today, Lara?"

"Very well, sir. Watch this." she took a grape, tossed it up into the air, and caught it cleanly in her mouth. "My accuracy hasn't suffered!" Rostron laughed and Lara sensed the awkwardness from Murdoch and Lightoller. Deliberately, she looked at them both with a friendly smile on her lips, trying to make them feel more at ease. Murdoch gave her a little smile in return, Lightoller looked a bit bewildered but he returned the gesture.

"Let's let bygones be bygones, Will." she told Murdoch in a low voice after Moody started telling jokes. He gave her a sincere smile in return.

When the breakfast was done, Lara stood up. "Now, I believe I need an escort to help me in my current state. Mr. Lightoller, would you?"

Surprised and grateful, he stood up as well. "I would be happy to, Dr. Sheridan." she claimed his arm and both said goodbye to the officers and captain of the ship.

On the stern deck, they strolled in a companionable silence before Lightoller opened up his mouth. "I truly am sorry for the way I acted, Lara. It was unconscionable."

"And so it was," she said evenly. "why would you insinuate that losing 4 men was in any way my fault?"

"What?" he looked at her, dumbfounded.

"You remember what you said!" she snapped, clenching the taffrail so hard her knuckles were white. "Charles, I know you were under a lot of stress, but that doesn't give you any license to snap at me and insinuate something beyond my control was my fault!"

"Oh, Lara..."

"This has been nagging at me since I got better. Charles, do you think that I'm an unfeeling person? I don't like writing the families of those poor men and telling them that their kin has died in battle or they bled out before I could save them."

"Lara-"

"Let me finish, Charles! I've had to grow a second skin, so to speak, so I can continue on my work! If I took the time to weep over every death this bloody war brings, I'd have no time for anything else." the surgeon looked at her friend with watery eyes. "I'd bet you wouldn't last one day in my shoes."

The whistle of a passing tugboat distracted them both for a minute and they both waved. "Lara, I am not making excuses, though at the time, I was exhausted from my watch, I had a bit of a row with the chief engineer belowdecks, and I had heard through the telegraph that my wife is about to have our 5th child, so I was embittered by not being there for her."

Lara gave him a cold look. "Still is no reason to vent your anger upon me."

"I wasn't trying to justify it!" Lightoller started walking again and Lara kept up with him. "I was just trying to help you understand where I came from on that day."

Shaking her head, Lara replied, "Trying to match misery for misery, eh? You know how juvenile we sound at the moment?" both of them started to giggle. "So tell me about your children."

As twilight fell, Lara exited the officer's mess and went to the bridge where Murdoch was standing the evening watch along with Boxhall. The senior officer watched Lara out of the corner of his eye and as Moody went to make the rounds of the ship, Lara sidled up close to the chief officer.

It was a beautiful clear night out. Seagulls screamed overhead, indicating that they were reaching Southampton and would be docking early the next morning. Blackness hung in the air, accentuated by the glittering stars that seemed so close and yet so far away, there was a gentle slapping sound as the calm sea lightly slapped the ship's hull, a cool breeze washed over the decks, negating the slightly humid air. Lara leaned against Murdoch for a moment and smiled a bit as she felt his arm moved and it wrapped around her.

"I trust I am forgiven, then?"

Lara giggled. "This is confirmation of it, yes, Will."

"I'm glad." he pecked her on the cheek. "Keep on with your what is it now? Convalescence?"

"Yes."

"Keep on with that and I'll be happy. Captain Rostron says we will all get a weekend of shore leave when we dock."

"That's nice." she already planned to stay on the ship, as going ashore had no attractions for her. The crew and officers were used to seeing her in her 2012 outfits and getting dressed up Edwardian style did not appeal to her.

Murdoch seemed to have read her mind. "You'll be on board still, then?"

"I have no one to visit. Someone will still need to be on board anyway, keep all the thieves out and all that."

"True."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I absolutely cannot stand sitting at my desk when it's hot outside!_

Lara turned around once, making her skirt stand out as she stood on the deck of the _Titanic_ and folded her arms at the bow taffrail, looking out over the calm seas of the harbor. Seagulls screeched overhead as the sun went down, the calm lapping of the tiny waves against the ship permeated her ears as salt air tingled her nostrils. The last rays of brilliant yellow and orange went down behind the trees as darkness began to descend upon Southampton.

Captain Rostron and the rest of the officers had gone away to their loved ones, leaving Lara behind to guard the ship. She didn't have any family so she was more than welcome to stay on board. Apart from hobknobbing with her friends, she was more of the antisocial type who didn't like social functions. Her medium length auburn hair rippled in the slight breeze as two tugboats passed by, honking their horns as she waved. The young surgeon was fully recovered from her illness and had been alone on board the ship for about 4 days. She relished it, having the whole run of the ship to herself and doing pretty much whatever she wanted.

Rostron had tried to cajole her to stay with his wife and family, but Lara declined that, stating that she did not want to impede on the time he got to spend with his family. Murdoch had tried as well, but Lara declined again, stating what she had before. Unwilling to intrude on anyone's life in any way, she firmly stayed on the ship and nobody could persuade her otherwise.

She passed the days playing on her phone and supervising the transfer of her inventories on board the ship, checking the requisites. Since none of the cooks were on board, Lara fended for herself, making up anything she felt like and usually enjoying it. The previous night she had sat in the library and devoured a book of Alexander Dumas until almost midnight.

"You there! Roll that gantry over here, please! It's an emergency!" the voice of her friend Lightoller roused her from her thoughts. The first officer dashed up the gangplank and rushed over to his friend, panting heavily. "Lara, you have to come with me right away!"

"What's going on, Charles?" she had never seen him so worked up. He was sweating bullets and looked very anxious about something.

"My wife!"

"Is it her time?" he nodded, exhaling and trying to get his breathing under control.

"Something's not right and the local doctor is out on another call. The midwife says it's hopeless!"

"Should I go take a look then?"

"Please do!" he pleaded.

"Let me go get my bag and I'll come with you straightaway." Lara rushed into the surgery, assembled some tools she would need, then grabbing a change of clothes that she might need, Lara bolted out the door and went with Lightoller to his house.

Lightoller and Lara reached his house in under 10 minutes, a modest 2 story brick house with white painted shutters on the windows of the first floor, presumably to keep their privacy. A white painted whiskey barrel held geraniums and primroses by the front stoop. Lara heard some moaning and when Lightoller opened up the door, she burst in, disregarding the 4 children looking equally as anxious as their father.

"Daddy, why's Mommy making all that noise?" one of the boys asked, standing up and tacking erratically towards his father. Lightoller picked up his son and held him for a minute. Lara admired the exchange as the boy wrapped his skinny little arms around his father.

"She's sick, Trev. I brought someone here to make her all better." he indicated Lara. The little boy in his father's arms turned and stretched his arms out towards the doctor, clearly asking for her to hold him. After a moment's hesitation, she did so. Trev or Trevor clung to her for a moment. He looked a lot like his father, the same brown hair and clear blue eyes.

"Can you make Mommy all better?" that was an unusually serious question from a young boy like himself.

"I can do it," she assured him, knowing the confidence in her wouldn't be a bad thing. "your mom will be back to herself in a few hours. She will be all right."

"Promise?" he looked at her with his father's eyes, biting his thumbnail nervously.

"Yes indeed. Everything will be fine." Trevor hugged Lara unexpectedly and she returned it. Lightoller and Lara shuttled the kids next door to the neighbors and then Lara went into Mrs. Lightoller's room to see what was going on. Lightoller cast glances around nervously and sat down on the hope chest against the far wall while Mrs. Lightoller clutched at the bedsheets as a spasm hit her.

The midwife, a gray haired witchy looking character, sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring her patient, puffing clouds of smoke from a cigarette as the mother hacked and coughed dryly. Lara had no tolerance for people who were lazy, so she took the woman by the ear, screwing it around on its axis, then forced the witch out of the room and threw her into the hallway. Lightoller opened up the windows to air out the room of the acrid smoke.

"All right, Mrs. Lightoller, I'm Dr. Lara Sheridan, here to help you out." Lara put on a pair of gloves.

"Call me Sylvia, dear," the sweat drenched mother tried to smile. "Charles would you step out now, please?"

"Let me know everything." he kissed his wife on the forehead and left the room.

Lara stripped Sylvia's skirt off and spread her legs, taking a look at the vulva. The baby's head had already stretched out the cervix nicely and it was fully dilated. As she watched, Sylvia tried to push. The infant's head went forward then went back again. Lara could see that the baby was facing the wrong way and it would not do so until it was rotated properly.

"What is it?!" Sylvia cried.

"It'll be all right!" Lara spoke loudly. "It's stuck, that's all. I can fix it in 2 seconds!" she inserted two fingers into the nicely stretched cervical os and wedging her other fingers in carefully, she very lightly grasped the infant's head and turned it about two degrees to the right. It was like fitting a puzzle piece and after that, the head bulged out freely. "Good, very good!" she said loudly so that Lightoller would hear it and be reassured somewhat. The baby tried to open up his eyes and take in the world, but all Lara saw was a slice of blue. The shoulders cleared away and the child fell gently into Lara's open arms. "Charles, you can come in now!"

Lightoller burst in and looked down at his new son, of which Lara had been cleaning off. As he watched, he saw Lara part the lips of the infant and insert her pinky finger into his mouth. She tickled the back of the throat, stimulating the gag reflex. The child coughed once and started to wail. The blue from the limbs cleared off and he turned a healthy pink color. Tying off the cord, Lara had Lightoller cut it, then he washed off his new son himself while Lara cleaned up Sylvia and made her presentable again.

"So what was wrong, Lara?" Lightoller, with his new son wrapped up in a blanket, sat down on the bed with Sylvia and they both talked at their son, cooing in low voices.

"Malpresentation."

"I see." he looked up at her. "What was your father's name?"

"Brian. With an I." she clarified with a wry grin. Sylvia giggled.

"Well, say hello to Brian then."

"He's such a cutie, born at 11:20." Lightoller kissed his son and Lara had to smile.

"Well, everything seems to be in order here. It's not too late, so I should return to the ship."

"Oh no, please stay!" Sylvia protested. "It's too dark and you could be robbed!"

"You got a point there." Lara put her bag down on the hope chest. "I can just bunk on the couch and be very comfortable."

"Good." Lightoller handed Brian to Sylvia, opened up the hope chest, pulling out a muslin sheet and handing it to Lara. "It might be warmer out tonight so I don't think you'll need much." she took it with a smile.

"I think you two are blessed by God." Lara watched Sylvia put Brian into a bassinet and she yawned. "Sleep as long as you like, Sylvia. You've had a very long day!"

"It had a happy ending thanks to you, Dr. Sheridan."

"Lara, please. Good night, you two." she left the room and shut the door.

In the front room, Lara put the folded sheet against the arm of the couch and lay down, pillowing her head on it. It was warm that night so she didn't need any covers at all as Lightoller thought she might. The doctor took off her shoes and lined them up neatly, putting them underneath the couch so they wouldn't be a trip hazard to anyone walking by. She yawned and closed her eyes, thinking the day had been very odd but rewarding.

Awakening from her sleep, Lara yawned and stretched, forgetting where she was for a moment. Standing up, she drew the curtains and changed her shirt, knowing she could get another day out of her skirt. Tying on her shoes, she heard a small wailing cry and went forth to see what was the matter. Sylvia and Lightoller had been curled up asleep as Brian started to fuss. Not wanting Sylvia to get up for awhile yet, Lara quickly picked up the infant and left the room. Brian had moved his bowels so Lara put him in a small tub full of water and began to sing to him as she washed him thoroughly.

"Never mind, I'll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don't forget me, I'll beg. I'll remember you said

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead..."

Brian burbled as Lara supported his head and rubbed soap all over him. She had to giggle. "You like that, huh? It's such a sad song, though."

The little tyke clapped his hands together as she drained the water and put a fresh diaper on him. Lara rubbed her hand in circles on his back, soothing his fussiness and thought of a more upbeat song she could sing to him.

"Let's keep the beat on this song, all right?" she sat down with him in her lap and she began to pat his hands gently, pretending to tap out a beat. Brian giggled and watched with interest.

"She, she ain't real  
She ain't gon' be able to love you like I will  
She is a stranger  
You and I have history or don't you remember?  
Sure, she's got it all but baby is that really what you want?

"Bless your soul, you got your head in the clouds  
She made a fool out of you and, boy, she's bringing you down  
She made your heart melt but you're cold to the core  
Now rumour has it, she ain't got your love anymore

"Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)

"She is half your age  
But I'm guessing that's the reason that you've stayed  
I heard you been missing me  
You've been telling people things you shouldn't be  
Like when we creep out, she ain't around  
Haven't you heard the rumours?

"Bless your soul, you got your head in the clouds  
You made a fool out of me and, boy, I'm bringing you down  
You made my heart melt yet I'm cold to the core  
But rumour has it I'm the one you're leaving her for

"Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)  
Rumour has it  
(Rumour)

"All of these words whispered in my ear  
Tell a story that I cannot bear to hear  
Just 'cause I said it, it don't mean that I meant it  
People say crazy things  
Just 'cause I said it, don't mean that I meant it  
Just 'cause you heard it

"But rumor has it he's the one I'm leaving you for."

Brian was asleep by the time she finished the song and giggling, she maneuvered him into her arms without waking him up. Creeping into the bedroom, she put him back into the bassinet as Lightoller entered the room from the bathroom.

"Morning, Charles."

"Morning, Lara. I heard you singing."

"Just a hobby."

"But you're very good at it." he told her as he combed back his hair. "I should like to hear more of the songs from your time."

"Later, definitely."

"Right. Are you going so soon?" Lightoller eyed her as she picked up her bag.

"I think I've done all the damage I can here," she joked. "It's time for me to be moving on. Besides, I have to check the supply manifest again to make sure the cleric didn't screw it up this time. You 3 need private bonding time anyway."

"Will you at least say goodbye to Sylvia?"

"Don't wake her up, Charles! She needs as much sleep as possible. Doctor's orders you know." she teased. Lightoller laughed.

"Point taken. See you in a few days." he saw her to the door where she set out to walk back to the pier and the ship.

Lara walked back to the ship humming to herself and walked up the gangplank. She stowed her gear in her room, threw herself onto the bed, then pulled out a book of Dickens to read.

At the same time, Boxhall was thinking about her as he boarded the vessel, wondering what she was up to. The quiet navigator had never been much of a talker, yet he found himself strangely attracted to the female surgeon for an unknown reason. He put his suitcase on the bed in his room and hung up his uniform hat. They were due to sail in about 4 days, once the turnaround time was completed. Boxhall didn't know yet where they were sailing to and he would sort that out once Rostron came back on board. The senior officers would arrive tomorrow, the junior officers were supposed to be back that night, as was Lowe. So far, Boxhall was the first to arrive.

Sitting on his bed, he pulled out a back issue of Collier's magazine and started to read. His thoughts drifted to Lara without meaning to, remembering when she was ill and how he had stood vigil at her bedside until she had gotten better. She was loud, funny, attractive, and Boxhall wondered why she wasn't married yet. He'd dismissed her alternative reality theory as rubbish, but with the way she dressed, her American accent and slang, he was starting to wonder if it really was true or not. Lara had once worn a knee length white skirt with a pair of flip flops and a blue short sleeved shirt with a white sailor collar, startling some of the officers. Lowe had been vocal, pointing out that a lady's legs were not to be seen but she'd snapped at him and told him that what she was wearing shouldn't matter as compared to the work that she had been doing. Rostron was quite passive in this, saying she could wear whatever she wanted.

Moody boarded the ship an hour later, resplendent in his uniform. Nobody was around to greet him, so he walked straight to his room and made himself at home. Like Boxhall, he found himself attracted to Lara, but unlike his colleague, he would engage Lara in little jokes and pranks. They laughed and enjoyed each other's company very much and Moody was coming to regard her as another sister. His sisters were very prim and proper, Lara was one totally outside the stereotypes. Women were supposed to get married, she had not; they were supposed to have children, she had not; they were supposed to be subservient and quiet, Lara was the extreme opposite. If she had been around in the time of the Salem witch hunts, she would have been hanged at the first chance.

The night passed uneventfully and Lowe boarded the ship at about 11, when everyone else was sound asleep in their quarters. Everyone except Lara, that is. She was outside, sitting on a deck chair, enjoying the warm breeze that gusted in from the Southampton bay area. In the low light of the ship's running lights, Lowe could see her looking around and humming quietly to herself.

Lowe and Lara were abrasive towards each other when they were alone. Lara was firm friends with Lightoller and Lowe, while professional in his job, did not get along with Lightoller. Their personalities were alike in so many ways, so they naturally grated on each other's nerves. Murdoch and the other officers stayed out of it and Lara did not interfere either, except when Lowe's taunts got too close to home. Lowe was very self-disciplined and did not appreciate the pranks that Lightoller and the others played from time to time. Moreover, Lightoller was boisterous and had been known to get on a first name basis with many of the soldiers they had ferried. Lowe did not socialize much, preferring quiet time when he could get it.

With Lara and Lightoller, Lowe was civil enough with other people around. Often times when they had supper in the officer's mess, Lightoller or Lowe would make a comment and then they would enter on verbal assaults. Lara stayed out of it until Lowe's barbs got too personal, then she would defend her friend. It was Murdoch who would make the peace when things got intense in the mess. Sometimes Lara would negotiate the peace between the two officers, though it rarely got to that point. One of them often conceded before things got nasty.

"Evening, Harold," Lara greeted him cordially, bringing him back to his thoughts. "glad you got in all right."

"Evening, Lara," he said in the same tone. "everything all right here while I was gone?"

She smiled and twirled a trucker's hat on her finger. "Yes indeed. All the stocks of supplies were taken care of properly this time." Lowe saw a flash of dark blue as she put it on her head in the dim light.

"I'm glad for that," he hesitated, unable to think of a conversational subject they both could talk about. "I'm off to turn in. Good night."

"And you," she gave him a nod courteously as a seagull shrieked overhead, making her jump. "You damn bird!" Lowe giggled a bit as he went into his quarters and set his luggage aside.

Retiring for the night, Lara and Lowe in their respective rooms, both changed, washed up, brushed their teeth, and got into bed.

Bright and early the next day, Murdoch and Lightoller showed up. Merrily, they set their luggage in their rooms and went onto the bridge as Captain Rostron arrived. He acknowledged his officers with a cheery grin and told them they were heading out to the site of the San Bair battle. It had ended just a few days ago and there were scores of wounded ready to be taken back home. The emergency field hospitals had taken care of them enough so they were ready to travel, yet everyone knew the surgery would be hopping on board ship.

"Dr. Simpson and Dr. Sheridan know, of course," Rostron had Lowe manning the ship's bridge phones while Moody took care of the stern ones. The tugboats latched onto the ship via mooring ropes and the reversing engine kicked in, sending up a gentle backwash that made the other ships in port rock up and down a little bit. Lara walked onto the deck, wearing a short denim skirt and matching button up denim shirt. There was embroidered stitching around the collar and cuffs in a floral design. It wasn't too comfortable to wear, as she kept scratching at her left wrist, the embroidery scraping against her skin.

"Hello, Dr. Sheridan!" Rostron gave her a beaming smile. "All set for a new adventure?"

"Of course, sir!" she returned the smile. "I'm always up for something new!"

"All right then, anchors aweigh!" _Titanic_ angled herself for the open water and Murdoch pulled the telegraph for the forward engines to engage. Lara could feel underneath the decking the reversing engine being turned off and the forward propulsion kicked on. Lightoller stood proudly, hands behind his back as Southampton disappeared behind him. The ship picked up steam and proceeded on the set course.

There wasn't much to do during the journey to the battle site. Lara and Simpson reorganized the surgical supplies to make it easier to find what they needed quicker. They swam in the swimming pool and with Lightoller, Lara rounded up some of the officers for a hand of gin rummy.

"Are you a gambling woman?" it was late at night and Rostron had already turned in. Murdoch and Lightoller sat on either side of Lara, while Moody joined them. Lowe and Boxhall were on duty and Simpson had wanted to catch up on his reading.

Lara grinned and cut the deck, shuffling like a Vegas card dealer. They didn't play for money, but for the odd trinket that they had on their person.

"You have to throw something down to buy in, boys." she put down an old pocketwatch chain one of the soldiers had left behind during their trip from Gallipoli. Little talk followed as they threw their contributions into the pot. Lara dealt 7 cards each and set down the deck. "Ace is high. You take a card from the reject pile, you take all the cards on top of the card you want."

"Do you always play it that way?" Moody went first.

"You get more points. First one to 500 is the winner." the surgeon told him as she took her turn.

Half an hour later, the first game was done. When it was midnight, Moody ran out of cards first and Murdoch tallied up the scores. Lara waited, hoping that she would win, but all the unused cards in the players' hands had to go to the winner so they could add more points to the score. Scowling lightheartedly, Lightoller watched as Murdoch worked his pencil deftly, the dull rasp of the pencil scribble evident to their ears.

"Well well.. Charles, you've won." he pronounced. Lightoller grinned and picked up the pot of trinkets. Lara's watch chain, an old sailing ship model of Murdoch's, his own pewter cufflinks, and Moody's battered copy of Norrie's Seamanship were stuffed into his pocket without ceremony. Gloating, he bid goodnight to everyone and went to his room.

"We will be hearing about that for the next few days, mark my words." Murdoch grumbled as he stood up and put on his hat. Moody did the same as they went to relieve the other officers from their watch. Lara bid them goodnight and went to her room.

She heard a rattling sound from her closet and turned, pulling off her crystal teardrop earrings in one smooth motion. Lara looked at the closet and remembered how she'd been transported into another world before. Picking the door handle out of the darkness, she boldly opened up the closet, being greeted with a red light and the faint sound of a siren.

*Ghostbuster stories read here*

It was only 1 hour before she reentered her room, but she felt like she'd been aged a few years. Sitting down on her bed, she gathered her thoughts together before she changed for bed.

Just as the sun rose the next day, Lowe went off watch, yawning tiredly. He blearily walked to his cabin that was across the hall from Lara's and got into his pajamas. Collapsing onto the bed, he fell into a deep sleep before he even pulled the covers back.

At 9 a.m. as usual, Lara got up. Lightoller's cabin was next to hers and she heard her friend stirring as well. Since they were still in the warmer climate, she pulled on pair of khaki shorts, a white tank top, and a light yellow button up shirt. Lara tied the tails in front, leaving the shirt unbuttoned. Putting her short hair into barrettes, she put on her sneakers and left her room. The surgeon spent most of the day with Simpson, quizzing each other and practicing various surgical techniques that they had difficulty with. Rostron stopped in at suppertime to ask her if she would dine with him privately.

"Always a pleasure, sir." Lara grinned and accepted his arm, bidding goodbye to Simpson.

The two chatted amiably and as they reached Rostron's sitting room, he became a little more withdrawn and pensive. Abdul jumped up on Lara's lap with a purr, asking her to rub his head. She did so, asking Rostron what was on his mind.

"I am just worried about the war, Lara," the steward came in and served them. "do you think that we will win?"

"Sir, it's very likely. We Americans are behind you guys, remember? We're the greatest power on earth and whoever we stand behind wins." she gave him a little smile. Nothing was said or heard of conversation for a few moments amid the tinkling sound of cutlery and occasional dull thunk as someone put down their glass. Abdul was ushered off of Lara's lap and he sat on the couch nearby, glaring indignantly.

When supper was over, Lara moved to stroke the cat, but he'd decided he was put out enough for one night and didn't want her touching him again. The cat jumped off the couch, flipped his tail up, and stalked out of the room.

"It appears your cat is in a tizzy again," Lara was unfamiliar with cats, preferring guinea pigs and dogs. "I've only owned dogs during my childhood."

"Did you now?" Rostron settled down next to her. "Tell me about them."

"One was a Weimaraner, a real nut if there ever was one. He had a flirty look to his face during dinnertimes and he'd try to charm you into giving him something at the table. That was forbidden and he was trained to sit in the living room until we were done. He was a real expert on being goofy and had a great sense of humor."

"What was his name?"

"We dubbed him Charlie. He was big and made such a nuisance of himself so many times it was so funny!" Lara told Rostron stories about her childhood dog and both of them laughed about their pets for a solid hour.

When it was time to go, Lara saw that Rostron was still looking worried as he was staring out the window. She crossed over to him and looked at his profile for a moment until he turned to look at her.

"It's not been very long since the _Lusitania _went down, sir."

"I know," he sighed and rubbed his aching eyes. "I suppose it is foolish of me to fret over the future, which is something we cannot control."

"Take each day as it comes." she advised him. "I know it's hard when we're out here like this, but don't drive yourself crazy."

Rostron glanced at her again. "Did you have anyone dear to you on the _Lusitania_?"

"No, but the fact so many lives were lost... I cried and mourned for days. Such a cruel thing to do."

"I understand that." Rostron asked to see her to her cabin and she accepted. They walked in silence for a few minutes until Lara glanced on the horizon.

"I hope it's a beautiful day tomorrow."

"I as well. Lara?"

"Yes?"

"Do you still celestial navigate from where you come from?"

"No. Celestial navigation is notoriously unreliable. We use a different form."

"I'd ask but I don't think I'd understand it." he chuckled a little.

"I don't completely get it, but never mind."

"What's it like in your...where you come from?"

"Well, I got a full education and I can drive."

"A car?"

"Yes indeed. I was a bit of a drag racing prodigy at the local track."

"Indeed!" Rostron glanced at her. "Do you have any children or anything?"

She shut her eyes for a moment. "No. My husband and I wanted them but I ended up miscarrying twice."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. My husband died about a year ago, so I don't really mind anymore."

"You poor dear. Have you told this to anyone else?"

"No, sir. You're the first."

He stopped and appraised her with his eyes. Rostron could detect some grief in her eyes, but the spark of good humor was still there in them. Happy to see that, it meant that she had not lost her spirit. Lara opened up the door and bade Rostron goodnight, which he returned.

Lara shut the door and let the memories overtake her for a moment. Her late husband Eddie, the miscarriages. They'd been so thrilled with the first pregnancy, hoping that it would given them a lively infant, but one night Eddie had come home to see Lara was bleeding and sobbing in the bathtub of their house. She had looked up at him, told him she was having a miscarriage, and both of them cried that night. They had been cautiously optimistic with the next pregnancy 2 years later, but it had ended in the same way. Lara had gotten bigger, she was about 20 weeks and had felt the child move, then one night, she'd woken up with blood staining her nightshirt. The second miscarriage had caused them to go to the doctor and try to figure out what was wrong. She had been told there was no reason why she should be miscarrying all the time, but said also to avoid having children until they figured it out.

Even now she hadn't been diagnosed properly. Sighing, she changed and got ready for bed.

After they docked late on the night of their arrival, Murdoch rubbed his eyes and allowed Lightoller to take over the watch from him. They exchanged a few jokes, went over important points, then Murdoch went on his general rounds of the ship. Lightoller assumed his characteristic stance, his hands joined behind his back, looking alertly at the shoreline while Moody was in the chart room.

Lightoller let his mind wander over many things that had happened recently. First and foremost on his mind was the arrival of his 3rd son, Brian. He was quite proud of his children and hoped that they would lead long and happy lives. Roger was a loudmouth, precocious, and Lightoller knew he would be a sailor someday. Trevor was a little more quiet, more like his mother in his disposition, but he had a keen intellect and would be great in any career path that he would choose. Mavis, his oldest daughter, was like Roger, loud and self assured. She was quite confident and was evenly matched with her big brother in terms of personality. She was a tomboy as well, liking going outside and roughhousing with her brothers. Doreen was the next daughter, the exact opposite of her sister. Often times they called her Claire, she was quiet and introverted with a real love for books and reading. She had an aptitude for math and had a photographic memory as well. When her siblings would go outside, Doreen did not join them, preferring to cuddle up with either parent and read a book.

Then Lightoller drifted his mind to Lara, who had helped his wife deliver their last child. She was extroverted, loud, funny, determined. He could go on describing her, but the first three adjectives he thought of said pretty much everything. He didn't know anything about her past and he never brought it up, thinking the topic was left alone for a reason.

He would like to know more, though. Lightoller pulled off his gloves and exhaled, watching the tiny lights in the little town.

Murdoch retired to his cabin, shutting the door and hanging his hat up on the coat rack beside the door. He unbuttoned his uniform jacket and hung that up as well, looking around to make sure everything was in order. He changed for bed and got in, but his thoughts kept him awake.

His wife, Ada, was the first thing on his mind. In the latest letter he'd gotten from her, she'd described the quiet life she led in Southampton, keeping him informed about his family in Scotland and how well she was doing. Ada was as teacher and she continued to teach, even after getting married to Murdoch. He didn't care in the least, telling her it would keep her busy and out of trouble. She was an easy laugher, a good cook, very smart, and everything he ever wanted in a wife. She cared for him when he was ill, and he did the same for her when she had the flu a few years ago. Both of them had talked about children, but Murdoch wanted to wait until the war was over for something like that, so he would be there through it all.

Murdoch's thoughts wafted over to the crew of the ship and the rest of the officers. Lightoller was one of his oldest friends, the two of them got along like brothers wherever they were. Lightoller had been junior to him and still was, acting like a jovial prankster that he liked to be. Murdoch had been on board the _Medic_ when Lightoller pulled his famous Fort Dennison stunt and couldn't keep a straight face when he heard the stories.

Then there was Lara. Murdoch was generally kind and even-tempered around everyone and Lightoller was a bit more reserved until he got to know that person. Lightoller had remarked badly upon Lara when she first arrived on board the ship, making snide remarks about her outfit and mannerisms, etc. That had surprised Murdoch but not much, as Lightoller clung fast to some stereotypes of women that Murdoch did not. Lara came in with her flashing brown eyes and brazen demeanor, bringing all the stereotypes to a screeching halt.

Among the two junior officers, Boxhall and Moody, Lara had become a real friend to. The 3 seniors, Murdoch, Lightoller and Lowe, had some trouble initially with her antics. Murdoch had cottoned on fast and knew that she was not a person to be trifled with. Lightoller took a little longer but he found himself drawn to Lara, particularly because she was a lot like him in personality. She did not pull pranks, but she enjoyed a drink and a good joke. Lowe seemed to resent Lara still, but he always treated her with respect. Murdoch had talked to Lara about Lowe and she agreed with him.

"I think he's one of those people that need a lot of time to adjust, Will," she had remarked to him one night. "he'll come around."

Lowe had been the odd one out for awhile now. He was friendly with people, but he never really opened up. Even Rostron knew this and had tried to get him to relax a bit, but he was too highly strung for that.

Murdoch reached over and turned off the light, the reassuring sounds of the waves against the ship's hull lulling him to sleep.

The next day was very busy with Lara and Simpson tallying up the wounded and the nurses taking names. Lowe came down into the small washup stations where Lara and Simpson would scrub in on each surgery. The station had a large Plexiglas window so they could see what the nurses were doing while they scrubbed their hands and arms. Now, Lowe could see Lara and Simpson, both at separate OR tables, working on patients.

Lowe had not liked Lara for awhile after she came on board. She shook up his stereotypes of women as she did Lightoller's, yet Lightoller was more receptive towards her personality than he had been. The second officer felt socially awkward and resented Lara for coming on board and effectively turning the team atmosphere into more of a family one. Lowe did not like change much and it showed.

Never once did he question her abilities and now he was getting a firsthand view of what it was like to be a surgeon. Lara had blood on the front of her operating gown, her surgical mask was a little crooked, and her operating hat was a little askew. A nurse fixed those items and Lara thanked her. Lowe watched as she manipulated something too small to see and reached for an instrument on the green colored tray nearby. Simpson looked up and asked Lara a question, of which Lowe did not understand a thing.

"Did you lyse those adhesions yet?"

"Not yet, John. I'm fulgurating at the moment."

"Keep it up and don't forget to exteriorize."

"Already done!" Lara brought something pink up to the top of the man's torso and Lowe shuddered. He left then, unwilling to take in the gory images of battle surgery.

When the wounded were all accounted for, Rostron went down to the surgery where all was strangely quiet. He cast a questioning look at the head nurse, who only smiled as she injected morphine into a patient.

"How did you do it?" Simpson turned to see Rostron behind him. "It's all so quiet here and it's only been a few hours since we undocked."

Simpson laughed. "Better thank the field hospital for that one, sir. They were very efficient and Lara and I only had to do some shrapnel removal."

"Good. Where is she?"

"She should be coming out of surgery at the moment. Stubborn bleeder."

"Right. Make your report to me when you are able."

"Yes sir." Rostron left the surgery, still disbelieving about what he had seen.

Lowe had just come off watch, Murdoch having relieved him, when he turned a corner and crashed into Lightoller. They stumbled for a moment and got their bearings, both muttering apologies under their breath.

It was nearing 10 p.m. and both were tired, so Lowe didn't hear someone sneak up behind him, nor did Lightoller see it. He picked up his hat and saw something out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't react until it was too late. He heard a sickening crack and Lowe dropped like a struck animal, his eyes stunned and then they closed. Lightoller moved to help his colleague, but he received a blow to the back of the head as well and he collapsed.

"Lights out." someone snickered.

A little trickle of blood oozed slowly down the right side of Lightoller's temple, running off onto the floor.

"Why, hello, James," Lara entered the exam room where Moody was sitting on the exam table. He shifted and heard the paper he was sitting on crack and rustle as the hard padding refused to give way and make him more comfortable. "what's up with you today?"

"I've not been feeling well lately." he said as she put on her stethoscope and checked his heart.

"Describe it more in detail." Lara used a flashlight to check his pupillary reflex, which was normal.

"My throat hurts and I can barely swallow."

"That's better," the surgeon checked under Moody's jawline to see if his thyroid had gotten any bigger. "nothing there. I think you're starting to come down with a bad chest cold, James." Lara looked at his neck and was happy when she didn't see any red spots. "No sign of strep or scarlet fever. I want to take a blood sample from you and check it."

"Blood sample?"

"It's not as bad as you think," she chastised him. "sit in a regular chair." he hopped off the exam table and gladly sat down across from her. Lara pulled out a needle connected to a tube, then picked up a small vial with a blue top on it. She plugged the vial into the tube and connected it to the hollow needle. Setting down the apparatus, Lara told Moody to pull up the sleeve of his left arm and she tried to see if there was vein sturdy enough to puncture.

"Found you, little jerk," Lara put on a pair of plastic gloves, picked up the apparatus, and then in one smooth motion, punctured the vein. Pulling back a little bit, the blood oozed up and began to fill the tube fast. When she was done, she quickly bandaged the site and set the vial in the rack. Putting the syringe in the biohazard bin, she turned back to Moody and saw he'd gone gray in the face.

"James?" he sagged down and Lara helped him put his head between his knees. After a few moments, he sat up. "Feel all right now?"

"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "sorry."

"Nonsense," Lara helped him up slowly. "do you go faint at the sight of blood?"

"No. I wonder why-"

"Hang on." she saw that his gums were slightly pale. "you've got anemia. Take some more dark leafy greens, young man! In the meantime, take one of these every day." Lara pulled out a small bottle of dark green pills.

"What are these?"

"Ferrous sulfate, or iron. They'll help, trust me."

"All right." he put the bottle in his pant pocket and picked up his uniform jacket. "Any other directions?"

"Sit tight until I can get the blood analysis done. I think you have a cold, though, so I'll give you some decongestants later on to make you more comfortable."

"All right. Think I can get off watch?"

"Not yet! Don't push it, James." Lara laughed and showed him out, promising to let him know the blood test results. She took the vial of his blood out into the lab area, where she prepared the sample and fed it into a high speed computer. She would know the results in an hour's time.

"Lara!" Simpson startled her, bursting into the lab. "Lightoller's been attacked!"

"What?!"

"It looks bad. He's got a head wound and they're bringing him to his room. One of my patients just took a bad turn so I have to open him up again. Take care of Lightoller, will you?"

"You're damn right I will!" she snatched up her bag and hightailed it to her friend's room.

Lightoller was accompanied by Murdoch and Rostron, who had maneuvered him in and settled him down on his bed. Lara burst in, taking in the sight of her friend lying motionless, which scared her. She drew on her professional exterior as a means of hiding her surprise and worry for her friend, allowing herself to disassociate from him and do her job more effectively.

"What happened?" putting on a pair of plastic gloves again, she took a swab and cleaned off the blood on the side of Lightoller's head.

"We don't know. The captain here found him on the companionway lying facedown and that was it." Murdoch told her, handing her the bottle of saline. Lara flushed the wound thoroughly and examined the area with a penlight.

"He needs about 2 stitches," she pronounced, pulling out a suture kit and readying it. "I hope he stays out like this so I can do this without incident. Will, take his hand and distract him if he wakes up." Murdoch did so as Rostron looked on worriedly.

"So what were you doing before this?" he prompted, eager for light conversation to break the tension.

"I was looking at Mr. Moody," she replied, pulling the suture tight gently. "I believe he is starting to develop a bad chest cold."

"Are we dropping like flies here?" Murdoch had a bit of a smile on his face.

"So is Mr. Lowe on watch now?"

"Harold? I haven't seen him."

"Perhaps you'd better go check, Will." Rostron suggested kindly. Murdoch nodded and left with a respectful salute to his superior. Lara finished the two stitches and applied a small bandage over the site, lacing the bandage with some antiseptic ointment. She folded a flap of the surgical tape to create a small tab on the roll so she wouldn't have to keep checking for the edge of the tape, then put it in her bag.

"How long will it be before he wakes up?"

"There's no telling, sir. I can't force it and he'll just pass back out anyway." Lara snapped her bag shut. "Do you want me to stay with him until he does?"

"If your workload is agreeable."

"I can do that, sir." squeezing Lightoller's hand, she sat down in his desk chair and pulled out a book to read. Rostron left her with a little grin on his face, admiring her coolness under fire.

Two hours later, Lightoller hadn't roused yet and they were beginning to get worried. Simpson had taken over looking after him so that Lara could get some air on the deck, and she was walking with Murdoch as well. The two traded stories in a low voice amid the seagulls screaming as they neared the harbor where they would refit the ship. It would take a solid 2 weeks in Oporto, but none of them minded very much. The provisions were low and some wounded would board the ship back for England as well.

"I would hope that there's nothing eventful for us," Murdoch was telling her. "Rostron thinks that since we're in a so-called neutral territory now that anyone could take shots at us."

"Yeah. I would rather be on the Greek run again," Lara agreed, tying her hair back into a ponytail. She'd let it get longer and was enjoying it for a little while at least. "plenty of sun."

"And scores of wounded!" Murdoch said with a rueful laugh. "There isn't any safe place for us. Neutral nations aren't all they're cracked up to be."

"So it would seem-" Lara cut herself off when she saw Lowe lurch out of a side door, look around, then head over to them. "Harold! What have you been up to?"

"Someone attacked me." was all he said, mopping at a cut on his cheek. Lara pulled out a tissue and held it down against the cut. Murdoch took Lowe's arm as he wobbled.

"Let's get you to the sick bay so I can patch you up." they steered him in the right direction.

With Lowe on the table, Lara scrutinized his cut under a bright light as he moaned and tried to bat it away. She held firm as Murdoch restrained his friend's wrist gently. "Let her do what she needs to do, mate."

"Quite." Lara agreed. "Lay down, Harold."

Willingly he did so, allowing Murdoch to pull off his uniform jacket and check him for other wounds. Lara pulled out a bottle of lidocaine and measured a 5 mL dose into a syringe. She injected it into Lowe's skin near the cut and warned Murdoch to keep a tight hold on him.

"Stings?"

"Yeah."

About 30 seconds after the injection, Lowe recoiled, clenching his hands together tightly. His nails dug into his skin and little pink marks shaped like Cs were left as the imprint. Lara pulled out a sterilized suture kit and threaded a needle, telling Lowe that he wouldn't feel a thing. He kept his eyes focused on the ceiling as she set to work, replying to Murdoch's light banter intermittently.

After inserting 2 standard sutures, Lara tied off the ends and cut them. She put a salve over the injury area to help it heal, then administered a bandage. "It's not too bad, but I want you to get a tetanus shot anyway," she assured him as he sat up. "Wait here a minute."

Lowe nodded listlessly. Murdoch watched him for a long minute.

"Do you think you can work on watch tomorrow?"

The second officer raised his head. "I think so, yes."

"All right. I want you to report to me first thing tomorrow morning before your watch if you can't."

"Yes sir." a light seemed to come on in his eyes then. "Where is Charles?"

"He was attacked as well and took a bad bump on the noggin. He's fine now, we've got Dr. Simpson looking after him."

"Good."

"Do you remember anything?" Murdoch gently probed.

Lowe scratched his forehead, fingers brushing against the bandage. "I'm sorry sir, I couldn't tell you right now."

"That's all right. Tell me when you're ready."

"Yes sir." Lara reappeared, a syringe in her hand. She deftly injected Lowe with a tetanus vaccine and told him to ice where she had injected if it gave him any trouble. Listlessly he nodded and they let him go back to his room.

A few minutes later after cleanup, Lara and Murdoch were out on the deck again, chatting quietly to themselves.

"What do you think happened to him?"

"I couldn't say, Will."

"Have we got a kidnapper on board?"

"I don't want to speculate. Now we're coming into the pier and there will be more interaction with the landlubbers. Who knows what might happen?"

Murdoch acquiesced, not wanting to argue with her and make a scene. Lara was about to remark on the calm sea when she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. A person was standing there, seemingly not wanting to approach them. "Will." she pointed it out and Murdoch nodded. He went over to the corner where the person was, thrust out an arm, then yanked the person back out into the light where Lara narrowed her eyes against the setting sun.

"Can't be!" she exclaimed. The man had tight curly hair that was raven black, a cherubic face, partially sunken green eyes that looked at her with the same kind of astonishment. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, a black t-shirt and green hoodie, Murdoch surmised they were from the same time era.

"Lara?" the guy asked hesitantly.

"Doug." Lara stated calmly. "Will, you can release him." he did so and stood back.

"I warn you sir, if you try any nefarious deeds on board this ship, I will not hesitate to shoot you."

"What?"

"Doug, why did you come here?" there was a hardness in Lara's eyes that made Murdoch guess that she wasn't too fond of the Doug character in front of them. Doug fidgeted for a moment and sighed.

"I don't know how I got here."

Lara sighed also. "What will we do with you then?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Halloween**

Lara looked at Doug with a narrowed eye. Murdoch volunteered to take the new person to the captain to identify himself, she sat down on a deck chair and shivered a bit. They were going to New York to take a batch of British wounded home so they could recuperate properly. They had just finished turnaround time in Southampton and were about to cast off for New York.

"Something on your mind?" Lightoller came over to sit beside her on the next chair. He pulled out his leather gloves and put them on.

"Not really," she answered him. "A guy named Doug Peterson has arrived on this ship, he's from my time, and we've got a bit of a history together."

"Might I ask what about?" a chilly breeze nearly lifted Lightoller's hat and he swore, keeping a hand on it. Lara giggled for a second then turned to Lightoller.

"He and I were good friends a few years ago. Then he started shutting me out of his life in favor for his girlfriend. He was quite rude about it and I'm still bitter about it as well," she admitted. "it's fitting that at this time of year he and I should wind up on a superliner together."

"Why?"

"Halloween, Charles! Ghosts and ghouls. I love Halloween and all that stuff that goes with it." she answered with a smile.

Lightoller didn't know how to reply to that so he gave her a smile. "I was never big on this Halloween stuff anyway."

"It's not for everyone." Lara gave him a grin. "Anyway, I have patients to look after. I'll see you tonight at supper, Charles."

* * *

Rostron looked up from his charts he had piled on his desk. Abdul lazily opened his eyes as one of the charts covered him up for a moment, stood up, then stalked off, offended. Rostron paid him no heed as Murdoch knocked at his door. Not looking away, he said "Enter."

"Beg your pardon, sir," Murdoch came in with Doug. "Dr. Sheridan and I found this ruffian wandering the decks."

The captain turned and scrutinized the man intently. He dressed like Lara did and probably came from her time period.

"Name?"

"Doug Peterson."

"Where do you come from?"

"Uh, the year 2012."

"Do you know our Dr. Sheridan?"

"Lara Sheridan? She and I used to be friends." he answered hesitantly. Rostron's eyes narrowed. Doug guessed she played a role of great importance on the ship.

"I do not wish to intrude on your personal life," the captain said finally. "whatever issues you 2 have, you are both expected to behave with decorum and humility towards each other. Understand?"

"Yes sir." Doug replied.

"As for quarters, while you are here, I will give you one of the first class staterooms we have on reserve. Mr. Murdoch will show it to you."

"As you wish, sir." Murdoch took Doug to his room and showed him the basic amenities. He left Doug to get acclimated, then a steward gave him a tour of the ship.

At the same time, Lara picked up her doctor's bag, then went over to Moody's quarters. She knocked on the door and heard his stuffy voice bid her enter.

"Well well, James," she sat down in his chair, pulling it up to his bedside where he was reading lying down. "you seem to have deteriorated somewhat."

He snorted and sniffled. "Thank you very much."

"I'm going to give you some decongestant pills now. They take half an hour to work." she administered them to him. "Now I have a salve that will give you some temporary relief at least." Lara pulled out a small jar with mentholated eucalyptus among other things. She pulled off the top, took a small gob, exposed his chest, then began to rub it on him. Moody sighed in comfort and his eyelids drooped.

Lara giggled as he began to fall asleep. Corking the jar, she stood up. "I'm telling Murdoch that you're unfit for duty for the next 2 days."

No reply. Lara picked up her bag and headed out to the bow where she shielded her eyes from the setting sun and peered out into the horizon. Was that a flame she saw?

"Ship ahoy!" Lee's voice rang out from the crow's nest.

"Where away?" Lowe was on duty. He picked up a pair of binoculars and looked out over the horizon from the left bridge wing.

"Two points to starboard, sir!" Lara craned her neck to look. As they got closer, she could see a flame burning from a rudder. Boxhall ran down to join her.

"I'll be," he muttered, loaning her the binoculars. "looks like a destroyer."

"Mr. Boxhall, alert the captain!" Lowe told him.

"Yes sir." Boxhall disappeared as Lowe beckoned Lara up to the bridge. The two watched the burning wreckage and they saw someone stand up on a piece of sheet metal and wave his arms.

"Mr. Lowe, bring us alongside her and throw down a ladder." Rostron stood next to Lara, tying his tie straighter.

"Aye sir."

Within a few minutes, the stranger had climbed aboard the ship, teetered for a moment, then spied Rostron. Straightening up, he said, "Captain Henry T. Wilde, formerly of the late _Nexus_."

"Captain Arthur Rostron, RMS _Titanic_. Are you hurt, sir?"

"Somewhat," he grunted. "U boat came out of nowhere. I was on the bridge and I heard a thunderous bang. All my men are dead, I fear."

"Now sir, time for that later on." Lara came into his view. "Dr. Lara Sheridan. Will you come with me so I can examine your injuries?"

"I'd be grateful." Wilde grunted, walking across the bridge with his wet shoes squelching and squeaking. Lowe looked at Rostron, bemused as Doug walked in.

"What was that all about?"

"No passengers on the bridge, sir!" Lowe reprimanded him.

"Lara was just here!"

"She is one of the ship's surgeons and is allowed to come up here. You are in no official capacity so you are a passenger. Off with you!"

Doug already didn't like Lowe. He went off in search of the library to do some reading, passing by a few of the nurses and stewards. He saw Lara show Wilde into the surgery and walked by it, the door reading SHIP SURGERY/CLINIC.

* * *

"Now Mr. Wilde, just take off your peacoat and sit tight while I have a look at you." he did so, feeling reassured by Lara's presence. She questioned him on where he hurt and bandaged several cuts on his arms and one on his back from the shrapnel. Lara also gave him a shot of mixed vitamins, as that would help with his slightly malnourished looking state. He put his jacket back on when she was done, thanking her and telling her that he felt much better.

"Well, you should debrief the captain on your misadventure, but do stop by any time." Lara gave him a friendly smile.

* * *

_That night as Murdoch was walking down Scotland Yard road, or the main corridor of the ship, the lights flickered and went out. He froze, holding onto the knob of a nearby door, waiting for the lights to come back on._

_Instead, all he could see was a faint light getting brighter and brighter until it enveloped him and something came up behind him and sunk fangs into his neck deeply, drawing blood, making him scream._

The chief officer gasped and woke up, panting heavily, his heart thumping hard in his chest. The room was cloaked in blackness and the clock on the wall read 1 AM.

A knock on the door made him jump. "Will? How about a hand of chess? Are you up?" Simpson. Murdoch opened the door, the cold wind searing his skin a bit. Dr. Simpson came in and shut the door. "What is it, man? I've not seen you so worked up for a long time."

"Nothing," Murdoch muttered, putting his head in his hands. Something cool pressed down on his chest and he realized Simpson was listening to his heart.

"That's not nothing, Will. Your heart's pounding like you just ran a race. What is it? Nightmare?"

"That's exactly what it was." Murdoch grunted.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, mate. Nothing at all. Don't tell me if you don't want to. Think you can get back to sleep?"

"I'll try." he lay down again as Simpson wished him luck and left.

At the same time, Lightoller was twitching and moaning in his sleep. He jerked awake with a gasp much like Murdoch did, and began to hyperventilate, having just dreamt his family was in a burning building and he was on the outside looking in. It had been a nightmare but it was too real to him and he didn't anticipate getting any more sleep that night, so he pulled out a book and began to read.

A few minutes later, Lara woke up like the others did, having dreamt she was the victim of a cult and was giving birth to the spawn of Satan while the cult members chanted around her as she lay on a plinth, writhing and moaning.

"Oh God," she moaned. "Where the devil am I?" she was in the library, having nodded off while reading a book of Alexander Dumas.

"Lara? You awake?" Doug was sitting nearby.

"I am now."

"What is it? You look distressed."

"I'm not sharing with you." she retorted dismissively and left the library.

Upon returning to her quarters, she ran into Boxhall, who had just come off duty. He looked at her, saw she was mildly agitated, then asked what was going on.

"I've been having horrible dreams lately, Joe," she replied. "The latest was a real horror show. I'm almost afraid to sleep now because I don't know what I'll dream of next."

"I won't ask," he reassured her as they walked onto the boat deck. "it does seem this time of year gets to many people. You love Halloween, do you not?"

"Yes I do. We can't do much because we're at war, but we can still dress up in costumes and have a masquerade party!" Boxhall laughed.

"That sounds like you. I can't wait to see what you come up with." he walked her to her door, said goodnight and left. Lara sprawled out on her bed and thought for a minute about party plans before she changed into her nightgown and turned in.

* * *

The following day, both Lightoller and Murdoch looked as tired as she felt. Lara listlessly examined Moody, who in his good humor tried to get another sick day but she refused, saying if he was well enough to joke with her, he was well enough to work.

"By the way, a Mr. Wilde of the _Nexus_ was discovered yesterday. His ship was torpedoed and he was the only survivor. We picked him up and we will be dining with him tonight in the captain's private dining room."

"Henry Wilde? He served here during the maiden voyage. He got promoted to captain now? Good for him!" Moody could speak without sounding nasal from the congestion in his chest now, a good sign he was getting better. Lara put her items into her bag and told him to take it easy for the rest of the day.

The October wind bit at her as soon as she left the heat of Moody's room. The young surgeon chose a deck chair and wrapped herself up in her fleece coat and gloves, idly watching the horizon drift by as the faint hum of the engines down below chugged onwards.

Murdoch had just come off duty and was completing his rounds of the ship when he saw a faint shadow playing on his right side, just out of his direct vision. He turned but could not identify the source of the shadow, so he shrugged and kept going. When it happened again, he turned sharply but still didn't see anything. More angry now than anything else, he turned and strode down the hallway, shades of his nightmare in his mind. The chief officer turned and glanced down Scotland Yard once more but didn't see a thing.

_Murdoch_ someone hissed his name. Someone almost inhuman. Thoroughly angry now, he turned.

"What the bloody hell is it?" he barked in his Scottish brogue. "Show yerself!" nothing but a laugh was heard, eerie and chilling. Murdoch muttered to himself and left the lower floor.

* * *

"And this, Mr. Peterson, is the decompression room for divers." Simpson was showing Doug around the surgery and all their equipment, half listening to Simpson and the hazards of decompression sickness. The door was heavy reinforced wood and sealed with a rubber gasket all around the edges. A wheel in the center would fasten it shut and there were two switches on the panel beside the door. The one with the green light indicated that nobody was being treated for decompression sickness and the red light was labeled a vacuum pump.

"It removes the air from the room so we can treat the patients more efficiently." Simpson explained. He launched into an explanation of air with a higher concentration of some chemicals and some were not.

"Nice." was all Doug said. He'd only agreed to the tour so he could distract his mind from Lara and why she was being so rude towards him. Simpson pointed out the ultrasound as Rostron entered the recovery area for the patients.

"Captain Wilde," he pushed back the privacy curtain. "How are you feeling today?"

"Better, Captain Rostron," he sat up. "You have a great medical team here. Dr. Simpson has discharged me."

"Has he? Good. Please, walk with me so I can take you up to your quarters here." Wilde moved stiffly for a few moments then he relaxed a bit, adopting Rostron's brisk pace with little difficulty. The two captains walked in silence for a moment, then Wilde told his story. It turned out that a U boat had been patrolling the same area as he, that he wasn't on deck when the destroyer was torpedoed, his first officer was a drunk, and completely missed the entire attack. The ship was ripped apart, the entire crew lost, and Wilde saved himself by grabbing a piece of floating sheet metal and decking.

"Would you feel up to dining with my officers, me, and my surgeons tonight?" he opened up the door of the first class room and let Wilde look at it a bit.

"Yes, I would be delighted. In the meantime, I must send off a telegram to the White Star Line."

"That is already taken care of," Rostron smiled. "our wireless operator is very proactive and the WSL has acknowledged the loss. You are to come with us to New York where you will take command of a newly commissioned destroyer."

Wilde sighed in relief. "I did not want to face a court-martial for the loss of my ship."

"You will not. My suppertime is 6 PM promptly."

"I will be there." he shut the door with a little smile. Often a loss was just the beginning.

* * *

Lightoller walked by the door at the end of his watch. Tired and hoping to get in a nap, he took a shortcut to his quarters to see Doug wandering about aimlessly. "Mr. Peterson, might you be lost?"

He jumped. "No, sir. I was just thinking about what to do next on this ship. It doesn't have much to offer me to be honest."

"Why don't you try the gym or the music room? I'll lead you."

"OK." they walked in silence. "I bet you're wondering why there's friction between me and Lara."

"She has told me in confidence why there is, so I am not wondering." because the two didn't get along and Lightoller was one of Lara's friends, he was predisposed to disliking Doug already. Doug said no more as Lightoller showed him the gym and he went in. Shutting the door, he heaved a sigh of relied as he went to his room and sprawled out on the bed for a few minutes before he hung up his hat.

* * *

Half an hour before suppertime, Lara went into the surgery to check on some patients and then tried to find Simpson but he wasn't to be found. The nurses were off at their own dinner hour and Simpson was supposed to be in the surgery when the nurses were not. Getting a little irritated, Lara called for him and even checked the decompression/hyperbaric room for him.

Hands on her back pushed her into the room, causing her to trip and fall down. When she got up, she saw the door was closing fast. She ran, but the door sealed itself tightly and unseen hands flipped up the red cover on the oxygen vacuum pump and switched it on. The red light blinked and Lara heard the vacuum chug to life.

"Just perfect," she muttered, sitting down with her back to the plexiglas barrier. "I'm gonna suffocate."

At 6 PM promptly, all the officers plus Simpson greeted Rostron and they settled into the private dining room near the kitchens in the first class area. Banter and friendly chatter filled the room as the waiters served them all and nautical talk followed.

"Has anyone seen Lara?" Rostron noticed her chair was vacant. Everyone looked at him and said they hadn't seen her at all. "That's odd. John, were there any patients in dire straits?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

"I can't believe she'd go missing again." Murdoch spoke while the others somberly agreed with him.

Wilde was the newcomer. "Again?"

"Yes. Lara accidentally locked herself in her room once. By the time we found her, she was very ill and incoherent." Lightoller informed him. There were persistent rumors of Wilde and Lightoller not getting along, but they didn't have a problem with each other at all. Wilde nodded and waited for the others to fill him in a little more.

"When we got to her, she was miserably ill," Simpson took up the narrative. "it was a stress-induced illness. I've seen several cases but none as severe as hers. High fever, chills, horrid stomach cramps. I tried some new drugs to treat her plus the good old-fashioned cold compresses and massages to ease away her cramps."

"I see she is very active and healthy looking now."

"Yes, but it took a lot of effort to get her there," Lowe declined the spirits offer. "We took it in turns to sit up with her and nurse her accordingly. She would fight us at first but she grew too weak to resist."

"After about 24 hours, her fever broke and we helped to nurse her back to health." Murdoch finished. "We had to keep an eye on her when she was on deck for a few days, though."

"Why is that?"

"Her muscles had suffered during her illness and she was wobbly on her feet for awhile," Boxhall stated. "We were all afraid she might topple overboard after all the diligent nursing we did!"

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Lara was beginning to feel lightheaded. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them, bowing her head down low. Doug crossed her mind and she involuntarily thought about him some.

Doug had come into her life at a time when she was suffering from a mild bout of depression. He had taken her in and given her work to keep her busy and also to keep her mind occupied with something besides her sad feelings. She had been happy to find out she was taking pride in her work and the world didn't seem so hopeless to her anymore. Doug gave her something to shoot for and they had become fast friends. She was an expert in filing and computers and had helped him out with several computer glitches. They had a friendly typing contest and she outclocked him at 75 words per minute while he averaged only 50. Both of them remained companionable friends for a few years until Doug had met a girl he fell for. Lara had gotten very odd feelings about the girl and she did not like her. The feeling was mutual and the girl began to isolate Doug and made him choose between her and Lara.

Doug, being a typical man, chose the lady who engaged in sex with him over the friend who did not. Lara suspected Doug had a crush on her, as he always giggled and acted strangely around her. Pretending oblivion but enjoying the fact he did have a crush on her, she was herself as usual. Finally, the girlfriend made him choose and Lara was hurt that he chose the girlfriend over her, as if their friendship didn't matter to him.

Lara was crushed. If they happened to pass each other while driving, he would recognize and wave at her while she pretended not to see him. She had focused her rage at him and at an amateur night at a local racetrack, took her car out and slammed it around the track, imagining she was hitting Doug at every turn. It gave her savage pleasure and she'd secured a sponsor that very night.

The room was now just about drained of oxygen. Lara prayed for help as her dizziness got worse and she had to force herself not to hyperventilate as she would suffocate faster that way.

"I'm going down to the surgery to see if I can find her." Lowe said when supper was over. He was accompanied by Simpson as Murdoch and Boxhall went on watch. Rostron asked to be informed of their progress, which they readily agreed to. Going down to the surgery, Simpson asked the head nurse if she had seen Dr. Sheridan.

"No, sir. One of my patients said she went into the hyperbaric room almost an hour ago."

"I hope it isn't on!" Simpson jogged over to it. "Oh God! Harold!"

"What? Oh sweet Lord!" the vacuum pump was working away and Lara was slumped over on her side. Simpson turned the pump off, barged in, picked up Lara, then brought her to the exam table in the surgery. He listened to her heart with his stethoscope, checking for rales or wheezes. She was still breathing faintly and for that he was glad.

"She's still breathing but just. Lowe, see that mask with the blue bag attached?"

"Yes."

"Bring it here! I need you to fit that over her mouth and nose and give her air by squeezing the bag." Simpson demanded. He fitted the mask attachment over her nose and mouth and gave her a few healing breaths with it, stopping when Simpson checked her breathing again. Lara was breathing normally now and Simpson stopped, motioning to Lowe to withdraw the bag. The young surgeon began to cough a few times as Simpson raised his sweaty face to Lowe. "We've done it, Harold! Here, tip her onto her side so she doesn't choke." Lowe rolled her a bit to face Simpson as he smoothed back the hair from her face as he coaxed her to breathe. Simpson attached a cannula to his friend's face, plugging it into her nose and running the lines over and under her ears.

"Harold, would you go tell the captain about this? Oh and she can't have any visitors tonight." Simpson turned her faceup after her respirations eased and sounded more normal.

"She staying in here tonight?"

"Yes indeed."

"All right, John. I'll go and tell him." Lowe left the room as Simpson gave Lara a bed close to the door.

Lowe ran into Doug who was pacing the decks, still looking bored. "What was all that commotion I just heard?"

"You! Come to the captain with me!" Lowe knew that Doug had something to do with it and he snatched the man with a firm grip on his shoulder and brought him to Rostron's cabin.

"Captain Rostron, sir, Dr. Sheridan was found in the hyperbaric chamber nearly suffocated."

"Good heavens!" Rostron stood up from his desk.

"She's all right now sir, but she'll need to be in the sick bay overnight to make sure there was no lasting damage. I brought Mr. Peterson in here because I feel sure he has something to do with it." Lowe released his grip.

"I didn't have anything to do with her!" Doug cried out. "I was in the swimming pool the whole time."

"Can anyone attest to that?"

Doug frowned. "No." he said finally.

"Then we can't take your word for it." Rostron announced. "Until you are proven to be innocent, I have no choice but to arrest you and put you in the custody of the Master-at-arms."

Lowe left to get the man while Rostron sized up Doug. "I believe I told you that you were to act in a civil manner towards Lara, not lock her up in a chamber and suffocate her!"

"Sir-"

"Silence! You will spend the rest of your days here in the detention cells. Dr. Sheridan is a fine young surgeon, talented and kind. I will not have you trying to commit murder under my nose!" the Master-at-arms came and took Doug away in handcuffs. Lowe and Rostron watched him go and the officers went down to the bridge to fill the others in on Lara's misadventure.

* * *

"How many more days until Halloween is it?" Lightoller asked Murdoch as they gossiped together on the bridge.

"Just 3."

"Blimey! Lara will have to act fast to get her party going!"

"She's ahead of you on that front, Charles. The party will be tomorrow night." Murdoch blew on his hands and grinned.

"It doesn't take much to get her into that sort of thing now does it?"

"Gentlemen," Rostron and Lowe came into the bridge, Lowe getting ready for his watch. "Lara is all right, but she was attacked by someone unknown."

"How did it happen?"

"Someone put her in the hyperbaric chamber and turned the vacuum pump on, thereby attempting to suffocate her." Lightoller dropped his gloves in shock as Murdoch stared.

"But you said she's all right?" the former asked quickly.

"Yes she is, Mr. Lightoller," Lowe replied. "Simpson and I saved her before her lungs could shut down entirely. She's in the recovery room for tonight where John can keep a close eye on her."

"Can she tell us anything yet?"

"Not yet, Charles. She's still unconscious." Rostron peered out of the bridge into the black night. "we have taken Mr. Peterson to detention with the Master-at-arms. Since he doesn't get along with her, he is the prime suspect right now until someone else is named otherwise."

Nobody said anything else as Lowe assumed his watch and the two senior officers and the captain went off the bridge. Murdoch remembered in his mind that Wilde was on board, but he dismissed that notion quickly. Wilde was attracted to the redhead and he didn't think his old friend would be capable of harming someone that he liked. Wilde was also the least prone to physical violence or anything of that act. Murdoch continued to let his mind roam over the possibilities, not noticing an ominous cloud wafting up from the floor and building up behind him.

"What the hell?!" a heavy sensation pressed down upon him and he closed his eyes, barely registering the fact that he was falling.

* * *

_A/N: Redefined Old Hag syndrome for the story, not to be associated with sleep paralysis._

Moody got up from his bed and looked around, cautiously testing his lungs after a very long nap that afternoon. It was about 11 at night and he knew instinctively that something had gone wrong with someone on board ship, maybe 2 people. Having been excused from the captain's social supper because he was too ill, he slept for several hours and gained an unusual feeling that something was not right. He felt better, though, like he could take a deep breath and not start coughing like he had been the past few days.

Carefully he began to dress in his uniform, taking a few minutes to rest when he was done. Putting on his hat, he opened up the door to a cold breeze wafting over him. The officer put on his gloves and started towards the bridge where Lowe and Boxhall were standing watch now, hoping for an uneventful night.

"James!" Boxhall exclaimed upon seeing his friend. Moody knew he still looked too fragile to stand watch and he had been excused from them until after Halloween so he could recover properly. "Are you out here to make yourself sicker so you get more sick leave?"

Moody let out a raspy cough. "No, I am here to get the latest news about what's been going on."

Lowe and Boxhall exchanged a look. "How much do you know exactly?" the second officer asked him. Moody shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and looked at his superior while Boxhall flipped open the logbook.

"I know no more than an inanimate object, sir," Moody told him. "I practically was one for several hours."

Lowe smirked. "It seems that Lara has made herself an enemy on board the ship, James. She was found by Simpson and me in the hyperbaric chamber with no oxygen to breathe."

Moody gasped. "Is she all right?"

"Yes she is. She nearly suffocated but Simpson could put her to rights very quickly. She's in the recovery room, visitors have been banned."

"Do you suspect foul play?"

"Of course, James. One does not go in and shove Lara into the chamber and turn the air off just because they wanted to see what happens to her!" Lowe rolled his eyes, thinking that Moody's medication might have made him daft. Moody hacked a few times and then turned to Boxhall, who met his eyes while he was writing down the ship's position.

"Whoever it is that has it out against her will probably kill her tomorrow night," the junior officer stated. "All Hallow's Eve."

Neither officer was following Moody's train of thought and Boxhall had to ask for clarification. "Halloween is when the veil between the ghost world and ours is at its thinnest, as so the legend goes. Suppose some nefarious spirit is already here and tormenting us?"

"Do you hear yourself?" Lowe was amused and he turned from where he'd been watching the lookouts in the crow's nest. "James, you're still sick and I wonder at your chain of reasoning." Boxhall said nothing, privately thinking that Moody was on to something. Lowe was the type of person who did not believe in ghosts or hauntings, demanding physical evidence of any so-called afterlife activity as he'd once called it.

"On the contrary, sir," Moody watched as the lookouts changed shifts. "if any hauntings were to happen, it would be today and the next day where the enchantments between worlds are at their most powerful."

"Be that as it may," Lowe went over to him. "you are in no fit condition to stand watch. Go into the officer's mess and grab supper. How long did you sleep this afternoon?"

"From almost noon to a few minutes ago."

"Off with you then." the senior officer guided him to the officer's mess and returned to the bridge where Boxhall looked at him benignly. "I sometimes wonder about James." Lowe admitted as he watched the quartermaster steer the ship.

"Naturally, sir." Boxhall turned back to his calculations.

Lightoller and Wilde were sitting in the officer's mess when Moody came in, talking quietly. They both looked up at Moody coming in and gestured for him to sit down. Moody did so gladly, happy to see there was plenty of food available to him. The steward served him duly and once he was done with his repast, Lightoller enlightened him on what they were thinking of.

"Murdoch's been found down below," Lightoller sighed. He and Murdoch had been best friends for years now. "a bit like Lara, wouldn't you say? Just collapsed and that's it."

"Where was he found, Charles?" Moody took a sip of hot coffee and winced as it seemed to burn his tonsils. Wilde looked at him curiously and Lightoller did for half a second before he answered.

"Scotland Yard down belowdecks, the crew highway."

"Something's going on down there," Moody reiterated his conversation briefly with Lowe and Boxhall. "Lara believes in the supernatural and I do as well. Something not of this world is happening to the ship. I have an unsettling feeling that if we don't solve it soon, Murdoch and Lara are going to die."

"How do you dope that one? Why just Lara and Will?"

"Henry, I don't think this phantom has any set victim. It ensnares whoever is unfortunate enough to be near it at a given time. When was Lara found?"

"About quarter to 8."

"And Will?"

"Around 10:30. Why?"

"So now we know when the entity is powerful enough to make things happen," Moody told them seriously. "Lara and I like to read up on the paranormal in our spare time and we've theorized many things. One of our theories is that an entity can be powerful enough to fully immobilize their victims indefinitely if we don't find a way to stop this."

"If we don't, what do you think will happen?"

"Like I said before, they will die." both officers paled. Wilde was friends with Murdoch and he was very much attracted to Lara, though he didn't think she knew of it yet. Moody noticed that both Lightoller and Wilde were receptive to the ghost and paranormal view on what he thought was going on and realized it was because both of the officers were parents. Both of them had undoubtedly been called to their children's bedsides with screams of alarm, something in the closet or under the bed, etc.

"James?"

"Yes?" he shook himself out of his musings for the moment.

"What do you think we should do now?"

"I think we should go down to Scotland Yard and try to pinpoint the area where the activity is coming from. The sooner we find it, the sooner we can figure out how to destroy it. I will say this before we do anything," he added as Wilde and Lightoller stood up. "if anything happens to me, go into Lara's room. Under her bed you will find 3 cardboard boxes each labeled SUPERNATURAL, PARANORMAL, and CRYPTZOOLOGY. The paranormal box is what you want. You'll find a bright pink notebook with notes she and I have made. If worse comes to worse, use the notebook. There are several sections on ghosts in general, the occult, among other things."

"This would help us if you become incapacitated?" Wilde asked as they opened up the door.

"Yes," Moody answered, hugging himself against the chill breeze in the air. "if worse comes to worse, you can ask Doug. Lara told me that Doug has also experienced ghosts and would know what to do himself."

"Well I hope you don't become a victim," Lightoller steered them to a door which led downstairs to Scotland Yard. "here's hoping to that, James."

"Amen." Wilde followed them, his face grim.

* * *

Captain Rostron went down to the recovery room, having been unable to sleep. He knocked on the door to Simpson's quarters and watched as Simpson came out, dressed in a scrubs outfit and white coat.

"Captain, sir."

"At ease, man. I wanted to know how our two invalids are doing."

"Of course. This way." Simpson opened up the door to the room where he drew back the two privacy curtains surrounding Lara and Murdoch. Lara had been dressed in her white nightgown and Murdoch had on a simple t-shirt and pajama pants in red and black checked plaid. On both of them, a black blood pressure cuff on their upper right arms, and a small oxygen saturation clip on each left middle finger. Both looked very pale and lifeless.

"Any progress, John?"

"No sir. They both should have awakened by now but I don't understand why they haven't." Simpson flipped a page on a clipboard and began writing down notes. "It is like they just don't want to wake up."

"Very odd. You don't know what caused this?" Rostron put his left hand on Lara's right cheek gently, drawing it off slowly to see if she gave a reaction. There was none and when Rostron tried nudging Murdoch in his arm, the officer just lay there.

"I couldn't tell you, sir. Neither one have a concussion, they're not dehydrated or overtired. It's a mystery."

A memory stirred Rostron's mind. One of him and Lara having supper together when Simpson was ashore and both were talking about the mysteries and the unknown. Lara had mentioned that she and Moody were into that sort of thing and kept notebooks and files on it regularly. There had been several books in the library that had helped them in their quest for knowledge, though Rostron remembered that she had said there was a paranormal sleeping-sickness type occurrence which was relatively rare.

What was it? He'd asked her over coffee the next day. Rostron was open minded and he had to admit to himself that Lara had stirred up his curiosity for the unknown.

Old Hag syndrome, she'd replied. Lara hadn't gone into details and he didn't ask, but now he thought he might have a clue to what was ailing her and Murdoch. With a thanks to Simpson, he bade the surgeon goodnight and went down into the library, picking among the rows of books for an answer.

It took several false tries but he located a volume entitled _Medical Mysteries and the Unexplained_ by Jacqueline Beddingford. Settling down in a wingback chair, Rostron turned on a light, lit a fire in the fireplace, then began to pick through the book's chapters.

* * *

"Now what do we do, James?" Wilde shut the door and followed James as they walked the length of Scotland Yard. Moody frowned, concentrating on what he needed to do and remembered Lara telling him if he was looking for a ghost, turn out the lights.

"Turn off all the lights."

Lightoller hesitated but did so. "Might I ask why?"

Moody smiled for a moment, liking the fact that he was undoubtedly in charge now. "Because ghosts and entities are primarily white and they find it easier to materialize in the darkness as they stand out more."

"Gotcha." Lightoller picked up a flashlight and looked around. "What are we looking for?"

"Anything that seems out of place. A ball of glowing light, white filmy stuff appearing, a fog..." they continued down halfway through the corridor. "Is this where Will was found?"

"Yes, why."

"There's something glowing under that door." Moody peered into the keyhole. Wilde wrote down the room number and asked Lightoller if he had the skeleton key. All the senior officers had been given one and Lightoller produced his and stuffed it into the keyhole. Clicking the lock open, they warily entered the stateroom, Lightoller in the lead with his flashlight. The two other officers flanked him, Moody checking for the source of the glowing light.

"Has anyone been in this room at all?" the stateroom was slightly musty smelling but it was in good shape. Wilde looked around and out the porthole as Moody peered under the bed.

"Not since Wilson." Lightoller stood in the doorway.

"Who?"

"Oh, him," Moody sat on the edge of the bed. "he was a nasty character, Henry. He was betrothed to Lara once upon a time, then she found out he was trying to kill her and we found him on one of our stops in Gallipoli. We gave him this room because a lot of the stewards reside down here and they would be able to keep a close eye on him for us. Charles was assigned to guard Lara anyway."

"She and I didn't get along well at first," he admitted to Wilde. "Wilson breaks free of his guard, makes right for Lara, throttles her, then cuts off her breathing by strangling her."

"Strangling her?" Wilde asked. "like what happened to her earlier?"

Lightoller's eyes grew wider as Moody swore and stood up. "Shit! His ghost could be up there now, attacking her! Come on!"

Wilde and Moody rushed for the door as Lightoller felt a hand on his shoulder and he was flung across the hallway, the key flying from his hand near the door as it swung shut tightly and locked. Lightoller lifted his head blearily, having clocked it on the wooden door molding, then closed his eyes, his head lying limply on the ground.

"Charles!" Wilde and Moody pounded the door but got no response. A low hissing noise reached their ears and they turned around, smelling a rancid reek that came up from the floor. Cursing, the men held their noses and after a moment the smell evaporated.

"I'd say we're in deep trouble." Wilde remarked as a dark substance trailed down from the wall and ceiling joint. "The hell is that?"

Moody picked up the flashlight Lightoller had flung and turned it on. "Blood!" he gasped as it ran down towards him. Wilde turned and beat on the door, barking out orders but nobody heard him. He saw the blood trail down the wall in a peculiar way, all of the rivulets joined together and raced towards one spot on the floor. Following it, he spied a trapdoor and flung it open, seeing a little occult shrine. "Blimey! We need the chaplain to come and bless this room otherwise we've got no chance!"

"What?"

"Wilson's cursed this room, that's what! Anyone who walks near it is going to be attacked like Murdoch! Come on, we need that door open!" he and Wilde charged the door a few times, then Moody fell down.

"All right, lad?" Moody ignored him and shined the flashlight through the crack under the door where something glinted in the light.

"The key!"

"Shouldn't we just break down the door?"

"No, we need a way to keep the energy in this room contained!" Moody pulled out his pocketknife and slid the blade open, extending and reaching for the key carefully. It took several trys before he got the blade through the metal split ring and brought it back under the door. Passing it up to Wilde, he slid the key in the lock and opened up the door, grabbing Moody, hiking him up to his feet, and they dashed through it to the other side. Panting, Moody locked the door back up while Wilde looked at Lightoller. The first officer had a welt on the back of his head and it was bleeding shallowly. He was sprawled out on his right side and unmoving. Wilde looked at Moody who nodded, and they picked up the fallen officer, supporting him by draping his arms across their shoulders.

Onwards they trudged with nothing spoken between them. Wilde could tell that Moody was turning over all the possibilities in his mind about how to proceed next.

* * *

At the same time, Rostron was skimming through the chapters in the library. He turned a page and saw a chapter entitled OLD HAG SYNDROME. Curiously he began to read, thinking Lara might have mentioned something about it to him once.

_"Old Hag syndrome, formerly known as Witch's Curse, was first discovered around the time of the Salem Witch trials back in 1692. Doctors at that time believed that witches cursed the innocent into an eternal slumber while still alive, the likes of which they would never awaken from. Several people in the village of Salem died from this malady, wasting away from malnutrition and dehydration. The locale believed it was the kiss of death from Satan's minions, the witches. Indeed not one of them ever revived from the apparent curse._

_"The appearance of Old Hag syndrome is simply a refusal to wake up. The victim might have been fully conscious a short time before and suddenly fallen into a deep coma for no reason whatsoever. Medical doctors everywhere are still befuddled by the condition, many not able to extend their minds into the possibility of the paranormal. For that reason, several patients have died; not from the condition itself, but from a widespread belief that there was nothing the doctors could do for them._

_"There are options, if one is open-minded enough to believe. Several spiritualist groups have reported the syndrome was primarily used in instances of rare but powerful occult practices. The only way to fully rid a victim of the syndrome is to defeat the occult power that is keeping them in the grip of the condition, otherwise they will die within 4-6 hours. Only a handful of victims have survived, likening the experience to being kept in a dark place with the unpleasant sensation of being slowly crushed under the weight of the occult power. Autopsies performed on those who did not survive did indeed show signs of being crushed, i.e. the ribcage having several hairline fractures, the clavicles showing the same, etc._

_"In many instances of death from Old Hag-"_

Standing up, he saw that it was half past 1 in the morning. Going up to the sick bay to check on his surgeon and officer again, he turned the book's text over in his mind, fearing inwardly that they would not wake up.

Rostron opened up the door, blinking in the bright light. He saw Moody and Wilde there with Lightoller lying down on a bed next to Murdoch. Simpson was talking to them and mopping some blood off of the back of Lightoller's head at the same time. Noticing his first officer was down for the count, he walked over to his junior officer and Wilde.

"Sir." Moody almost jumped.

"At ease, men," Rostron could not keep the fatigue out of his voice. "where have you been?" the officer and the captain told him about their suspicions and adventure belowdecks.

"Mr. Lightoller here got beaned on the head and we brought him up to get him looked at." Moody finished. "Sir, I know there's an occult power down there and we need the chaplain to bless that room so all the negative energy will go away."

"That fits in well with what I've just read."

"Sir?"

"Old Hag syndrome, Mr. Moody. Have you come across it?"

"Yes sir. Oh!" he smacked himself lightly on the side of the head. "I was so wound up in the occult I never remembered to think Old Hag!"

Rostron had to grin as did Wilde. Moody was being intentionally funny to try to liven up the situation a bit. "It's all right. How much time do we have?"

"Lara's been down since about 7, so that's about 3 a.m. for her, sir."

"Have you any theories on how the power keeps them so comatose?" Rostron settled down on the chair between Lara and Murdoch.

"Yes. The historical details on this debility are very sketchy at best, so Lara and I believe the occult power only has enough power to keep these two insensible. As time goes on, the entity feeds off them, building up the power and once it's strong enough, the entity kills them."

"It leeches power off them?"

"Yes Mr. Wilde. Actually its their life force the entity wants so it becomes more powerful."

"There are many things in this world I don't understand and for good reason," Simpson broke in, outfitting Lara with an IV line. "the occult is beyond me and that's how I like it!" hesitant laughter followed.

* * *

Thirty minutes later the remaining officers plus Wilde were on bridge, going over the situation. Hichens steered on, oblivious to what was going on around him. The night hung thickly in the sky and there were no stars out that night. A hint of light from the moon shone down but that was all there was to see. Salty sea air wafted up to Hichens's nose, the waves splashed against the hull sharply, as the seas were starting to get rough.

"We've got a problem here," Lowe shut the door to the bridge. "we don't have a chaplain on board right now."

"What happened to Father Luke?"

"He disembarked when we were last in Southampton, sir. His son's family had their first child."

"Well, is there anyone brave enough here to do the exorcism or blessing or whatever it is?" Rostron blew on his hands having forgotten his gloves.

"Sir, you are an ordained minister," Boxhall reminded him. "you have the powers of the church and can preside over the...ritual."

Not liking the prospect, Rostron nodded. "Do I have to exorcise the entity as well, James?"

"No sir. The entity doesn't exist in this world yet because it isn't strong enough. The blessing will cut it off before it gets a foothold."

"Thank God for small favors then. Is Charles under Old Hag now or can you tell?"

"Too early to tell, sir."

"Well, let's go and get this over with." they marched down to the room on Scotland Yard, Rostron in the lead. They stood just inside the room and watched as Moody pulled up the trapdoor and revealed the occult shrine. He put it on the bureau as Rostron took up the Catholic Bible and began to say the blessing.

When they were through, Rostron put a crucifix over the mass of occult related items and doused them with holy water. The troop went up to their rooms after that, exhausted by the long night. Wilde chose to stay up with Murdoch and Lara, somewhat disappointed by the anticlimactic ending to their haunting. He sat down in a chair and tipped his hat over his face, ready to try to get some sleep sitting up.

Once dawn broke and stretched into the sky, Boxhall opened up his eyes in his bed and smiled. They had survived the night wih no major disasters and had not been called to the sick bay. He stood up and did his morning routine without any problems, then went down to the mess to see how the others were faring.

Moody looked a little worse for wear. Boxhall guessing that he had risen too early from his bed and done things when he was not well enough to do them. Lowe and himself probably didn't look any different from him and Rostron looked drained and still exhausted as well.

"How is everything going on in there, John?" Lowe asked as Simpson came to breakfast with them.

"Very good. It's only a matter or time before they wake up." he got himself some coffee and settled in at the table. "All their vital signs look good."

"Where is Wilde?"

"He's been with them all night," Simpson stated as he took a sip of his coffee. "I know he's got an attraction to Lara so that's where he would be."

"Speak of the devil." Moody muttered. Wilde came in and got some coffee as well.

"Anything?"

"Yes. Charles is up. He asked for coffee so I am bringing him some."

"Great. I'll be in to look at him shortly."

* * *

When Simpson got back into the surgery, he opened up the door to recovery and saw Lara standing up and looking out of the porthole, a gusty warm breeze stirring her white nightgown. At first he thought she was an angel, but then saw the fiery red hair and knew it was his colleague. Murdoch was rubbing his eyes with a slight groan and Lightoller was sitting up on his bed, looking bored.

"Well, so glad to see everyone is awake." he shut the door as Lara turned to him.

"What the devil happened to me?"

"You nearly suffocated in the hyperbaric chamber."

"Someone locked me in!" she sat down as Simpson began to examine her.

"Your memory is top as always. Yes you were locked in and Lowe and I found you. You hadn't stopped breathing which was excellent, then you wouldn't wake up. Moody diagnosed you as having Old Hag syndrome, you and Murdoch."

"Will?" he looked over at her.

"There was a luminescent cloud coming over me and I fainted. That's all I can remember." he stated.

"It's OK. I remember reading about Old Hag. An entity tried to take our life forces and you guys stopped him."

"Right on the money," Simpson took off her cuff and removed the IV catheter. "the ship is like a nestful of sleeping zombies right now. Everyone is exhausted."

"Doing a blessing or something like that is spiritually involved and takes a lot out of you." Lara informed him as she stood up. "Can I go back to my room and change?"

"Of course." Simpson gestured grandly.

"Why thank you." she put her nose high in the air and left, making Simpson and the others laugh. Wilde followed her with his eyes.

That afternoon before the party, Lara was sitting at her desk and reading a book when there was a knock at her door. She opened it and there stood Wilde. "Why Henry, what a nice-" he cut her off as he put his lips on hers. "Wow. What held you back?" she winked as he paused to gasp for breath. Wilde laughed roughly as she kissed him back, then he picked her up and put her on the bed, ready to start stripping down.

About 15 minutes later, Moody and Boxhall were passing by when they heard Lara exclaim, "Not so fast! There's plenty of time!"

"Not for me there isn't!" Wilde puffed. The two juniors turned to each other with their faces getting red. Walking on, they giggled a little bit and said no more.

At the party that night, Lara dressed up in a midnight blue opera gown complete with a mask on a stick she had made herself to match the dress. She pulled on her evening gloves and added a rhinestone studded bracelet cuff she'd made herself, then went to the first class dining saloon. Everyone was there in costume and several bowed to her as she smiled and found Lightoller.

"You look great!"

"And you." he was a cowboy. They danced to the tunes the gramophone played and Wilde interrupted a few songs in. Pretending defeat, Lightoller went away with a grin as the two danced.

Before long, the couple found themselves out on deck where they watched the sun go down. Lara held hands with Wilde and asked him what they would do now.

"I'll meet up with you in Southampton sometime soon," he promised, kissing her hand. "I have to go where they send me."

"You know this is rather fast, right?"

"So? I've only felt this way when I was with my late wife. I know you're the one for me."

"Keep talking." they giggled.

"I've got 4 kids and I would love you to meet them sometime. Anyhow, write me?"

"Of course." Lara smiled and kissed Wilde as Moody came up on deck. Seeing them, he turned around, feeling his face flush with jealousy.

END PART 4


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas

Lara woke up as the sun shone through her porthole, flashing onto her eyes. She rubbed them a bit, went into the shower, then picked out her clothes for that day. They were docked off the coast of Warsaw in Poland, as they were on standby for the injured soldiers that would be coming down soon from the front lines. Lara didn't know exactly when it would happen but she knew it was sometime within the next 2 weeks.

Slightly cold, she put on long johns, lined track pants, snow sneakers, a long sleeved undershirt, a black t-shirt over that, and a fleece jacket that had pictures of snowshoe hares all over it. Lara picked up her leather gloves and exited the room, eager for a hot breakfast.

As she walked, she was grateful that the fiasco that had occurred a few days before the Halloween party on board ship had dissipated rather uneventfully. Moody had told her of the exorcism, saying that he thought demons and such exited with a little more fanfare. Lara had laughed and told him that the entity was drained of its energy so it could only go quietly. The young surgeon and officer commiserated quietly for a few minutes and then Simpson had come in, insistent on giving them both checkups.

* * *

Life went on onboard the ship. Rostron was his usual self, as were the others. Moody had been acting a little awkward towards her, not quite meeting her eye when he talked to her among other things. Lara wondered about him briefly, but her attention was turned to the soldiers that they were to embark in about a week's time. Lowe passed her by, nodding his head towards her in greeting. The two had been getting along better than usual, perhaps due to the Christmastime in the air, neither one was sure. The surgeon noted that Lowe had loosened up some from his high strung attitude a few months ago. It was a relief, knowing that she could talk to him if she needed to. Simpson had explained that Lowe had helped him take her out of the hyperbaric chamber after she was found in it. Lara theorized that Lowe knew he'd been acting oddly and decided to loosen up.

Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a cloud of condensation, she put her hand on the cold brass handle of the doorknob and turned it, letting herself into the mess room where the off duty officers greeted her cheerfully.

* * *

"See anything yet, Mr. Murdoch?" Rostron came onto the bridge lightly teasing his chief officer. "Any bergs out there?"

"No sir," Murdoch wrapped his scarf around his throat a bit more tightly. "Though I do have to wonder what we're doing here."

"The battle of Lodz is complete and we're waiting for the MASH units to complete their work on our boys so we can take them home." there was silence on the bridge as they watched little tugboats come and go at the pier as they pleased. There were no seagulls screeching due to the time of year, instead there was an almost deathly silence. Murdoch wound his blue and white striped scarf around his neck a little tighter as he watched a fishing boat make a slow trek from out of the bay to the harbor.

"I hope they'll be home in time for Christmas, sir."

"I've no doubt, Will," Rostron smiled kindly at his officer. "our medical team can stitch them up and they'll be home in time for some good old English festivities."

Murdoch smiled as he blew on his hands. His Christmases at home with his wife Ada were always joyous ones. The week before the holiday they would set up decorations around the house, put candles in the windows, hang up garland on the stairway banister. A few days before the actual holiday, they would go up to Scotland and celebrate with his family. Together by themselves on the actual day, Murdoch and his wife would commiserate together, go visit some friends and bestow good cheer upon all that they knew.

He would do it again this year, if they were back by Christmas. In his last letter to his wife, he stated that he was unsure of when he would return, but he would be happy and in good cheer if they were not together on Christmas day. Lightoller's wife Sylvia would be sure to invite her over, as she had done it before in Christmases past.

"By the way, what became of that Doug character?" Rostron dug out his gloves and put them on.

"We allowed him to disembark here in Warsaw." Murdoch told him as he shivered slightly. "Given the bad blood between him and Lara, I thought it best to relieve her of his presence."

"Very true." Rostron allowed. "Is Mr. Wilde off to get another ship?"

"Yes sir. When we docked in New York to get the troops, Mr. Wilde disembarked himself and presented himself to the branch of the British navy in Manhattan. I believe he's commanding another destroyer."

"I do believe that Mr. Wilde has the ear of our Lara," Rostron's blue eyes sparkled. He didn't think anyone could get past the armor Lara had around her to protect her heart. "have you noticed anything, Will?"

"Not particularly, sir."

"I saw the two of them before he left the ship. She was looking at him rather the way my wife looks at me at times." it went without saying that Rostron missed his wife, though he thought of his officers and the ship's company as a second family. It made him feel more comforted and less lonely during the months at sea. Lara he regarded like another daughter, always watching out for her.

"I didn't see him leave, sir." Murdoch felt it best to feign interest in affairs of the heart. He didn't like to cross boundaries with people and didn't say anything even if the other person instigated the conversation on that topic. Murdoch just wasn't comfortable discussing other's love lives, especially when they got too ribald for his taste. Lightoller knew that and often teased him, saying very graphic things about love that made his face burn.

Just then, Lara stepped into the bridge, yawning. Rostron turned to see her approaching. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty!"

"Ugh," was all she said. "the coffee's not kicking in yet."

"How unfortunate for you," Murdoch teased. "imagine that."

She gave him a playful sock on the arm. "Stuff it, you!"

"You hit like a girl!"

"I am one!"

Rostron smiled and giggled throughout the banter. Murdoch tried to one up her on one liners, but she had him cornered before she was done. The two of them swapped quips and sallies for a few minutes before Lara asked where they were exactly.

"Warsaw, Poland. We're waiting for the wounded soldiers in the MASH units. They'll be ready in a few days."

"I hope so," Lara sniffled. "Boxhall's pleurisy is acting up and he can hardly breathe at the moment. My throat's getting sore so I know I'll be ill soon. I vote for warmer weather!"

"Where would you go then for that?"

"Brazil, Will," she took on a dreamy look. "learning the Latin dances, Rio, it'd be a great place to go!"

"Well I hope they got that smallpox outbreak under control."

"They did. I better go and check on Joseph."

"Is it bad, Lara?"

"No, Captain. I'm trying out a new therapy for him and it seems to be working."

"What is it?"

"Medicated oxygen. It has aerosolized antibiotics in it, which are far more effective than oral ones."

"It's cold weather, so you'll be seeing more cold and flu related cases before we're done here." Rostron warned her as she turned to leave the bridge. Lara grimaced as she swallowed and made a note to get lozenges.

"Stay well, you two. We don't need any more sickies." she left.

* * *

Joseph Boxhall was lying in his bed with a nasal cannula affixed under his nose and looping over his ears. His lungs had always been his weak spot as long as he could remember. He has severe chest colds as a child, been hospitalized for the flu once, then when he was working on a sailing ship, he fell during his watch and cut open his right leg as the ship pitched to one side. Boxhall had finished his watch, then went down to the sick bay to get medical attention. The officer had to take 6 weeks leave of his ship once when he'd been diagnosed with severe pneumonia.

They were at anchor now so he wasn't missing out on any work. Moody had kindly offered some of his library to Boxhall to read while he was ill and Boxhall had taken a real shine to Alexander Dumas, one of Lara's favorite authors as well.

A few days ago, Boxhall had come to her with a blood-laced cough and she'd known immediately it was his pleuritis acting up. She had taken some x-rays of his lungs and worked out it wasn't too bad, though he begged to disagree. Oral antibiotics were no help this time. Boxhall had needed medicine in a stronger form to really fix his ailment. Lara had brought him to his room with an oxygen cylinder and a cannula, put it on and set the cylinder to work. As soon as she'd turned it on, he'd felt a healing release of medicine invade his lungs, making him give a little sigh in relief.

A knock at the door distracted him and he looked up from the book to see Lara coming in with a new cylinder and her ubiquitous black bag. She deftly swapped out the cylinders and plugged him in again.

"There you go, Joe," she grinned, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

"What's in this anyway?"

"Air primarily. There's an antispasmodic to control the coughs, antibiotics, and a small dose of steroids for a little extra insurance." she pulled out her stethoscope. "Let me hear you breathe now. Lean forward." Boxhall did as asked and Lara auscultated his lungs. "Better. Another day or two on this and I think you'll be fine."

Like yesterday, Boxhall answered her interrogation about his condition, then she noticed the book by his side. "That's my favorite book!" the Count of Monte Cristo lay facedown with the gold embossed title on the spine glowing in the sunlight. Boxhall smiled and picked it up.

"I just started it. Dantes is at home now with his beloved and the 3 characters Fernand, Danglars, and that Caderousse fellow are at the inn now, writing his denouncement."

"Oh, he gets them back though," Lara packed up her bag.

"Don't spoil it!"

"I won't. I'll be in later on to check on you."

"OK. 'Bye." he clearly wanted to continue on with his book. Lara had given him a shot of anticoagulants because he was lying in bed all day and did not want blood clots to form. She exited his room and knocked on Lightoller's door.

"Yes?"

"Hey Charles."

"Come in." Lightoller was sitting at his desk, finishing off a missive to his missus. He sealed it and put it in a drawer, turning to his friend with a smile. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Oh bite me, Charles," Lara smirked, putting her bag on his desk and offered no objection as Lightoller picked up her stethoscope and started towards her, the pieces in his ears.

"Come on, let's listen to a heart if indeed that is what you have." he teased.

Grinning, Lara took the disc and blew into it hard, making him jump. Lightoller removed the instrument and put it back as she sprawled out on his bed. "What are you doing today, Charles?"

"Nothing. Why?"

"I'm going to the gym to keep in shape, then I'm going to the pool to get an aquatic workout."

"Sounds interesting. All right, I'm in."

"Come on then, let's go."

* * *

At the gym, Lara shed her outer layers including her sneakers, pulled up the long john pants so they looked like shorts, then did the same to the long sleeve shirt. Lightoller was wearing a loose white shirt, shoes and brown trousers. He mounted the rowing machine while Lara did the exercise bike for about half an hour, then they switched.

Lowe and Moody came in then, prepared to work up a sweat. Lara finished her routine, then stood on a neon purple mat in one corner of the gym. She assumed a stance, held it for 30 seconds, then assumed a new stance.

"What's that?"

"This is yoga." she turned to the downward-facing dog. The two officers were intrigued enough to have Lara instruct them in the art and so she did. It was low impact exercise and the two were surprised at how out of breath they were when they were done. Lara giggled.

"I'm always like that too," she admitted. "I have to increase my stamina so I can do more without getting so tired."

"That was fun," Moody exhaled slowly. "what's next?"

"Pool party!" Lara gathered up her things and put her pants back on. They went down through connecting doors to the pool, which was perfectly heated to their liking. In the locker rooms, they changed into their swimming outfits and Lara lowered herself into the pool, exhaling a calm and quiet relaxing breath.

"Oh, this is heaven," she ducked underwater and came back up. "I love it!" she swam and frolicked with her friends, diving for pennies and having contests. Lowe brought up the most pennies once, then Moody, but Lightoller got them all twice in a row.

"Eh." Lara floated on her back quietly. "I was never a fierce competitor anyway."

"That's pure bullshit!" Moody splashed her with a laugh. "You compete at everything! What about when you and Simpson were racing to complete stitching up some poor sods?"

"They liked it," Lara said airily. "it raised up their spirits but John won." she pouted playfully. Moody was in front of her now and she realized he was quite well built and muscled. Physical attraction was one of the key aspects of noticing the opposite sex and Lara was noticing, perhaps a bit too much though. She pulled her gaze away to see Lightoller was hoisting himself out of the pool.

"Had enough, Charles?"

"Yeah!"

"I think I have too." she examined her hands which were pruny looking. "Coming, boys?"

"On our way." Lowe floated over to the stairs.

* * *

Later on that day, Lightoller and Murdoch along with Rostron came in the first class lounge to find Lara lying on a couch and Moody bending over her, consulting a pink colored notebook.

"What's going on here?" Rostron came over along with his officers in tow. "Not attempting more occult activity on my ship, are you?"

"Oh sir, that wasn't us in the first place," Moody told him. "I am going to attempt some hypnosis on Lara to see if it works."

"Say what?"

"Hypnosis. I can bring her subconscious up to the surface and ask her questions she wouldn't answer otherwise."

"What about her conscious mind?"

"My subconscious and conscious mind essentially switch places," Lara explained as she sat up. "it's really fascinating and I've tried to hypnotize James here but he's not susceptible to it. It works on some people but not others."

"Really? I'd be interested to see how this all plays out." Murdoch took a chair and Rostron did as well. Lightoller wasn't interested in the hypnosis session, so he left to do his rounds. Permission granted to observe, the chief officer and the captain sat side by side and watched as Moody began the process of hypnotizing Lara. First, he took out a blue crystal pendant on a string and swung it gently side by side and instructed her to look into it. After a moment, he made his voice low and hypnotic, telling her that her eyelids were getting heavy. Next he told her to sleep and lying back, she closed her eyes obediently.

"It's really important that you both don't talk," Moody instructed Murdoch and Rostron kindly. "she's not going to react well to hear another voice besides mine." Murdoch and Rostron nodded.

The two officers seemed to be entranced themselves as they watched Moody talk to Lara, asking her random questions. She gave off the correct answers and Rostron watched as she replied to them, not even opening her eyes. He supposed that she couldn't for whatever reason.

The session didn't last very long, as Moody had nothing to really ask her that he didn't know already. He knew some about past lives but like Lara, he didn't put any stock in past lives. It was the present and future they were interested in. Murdoch watched Lara closely, marveling at her prone form-her eyes weren't even moving behind their lids. He suspected if they were alone, Moody might have asked Lara some questions that were of a dubious nature. The same thought had occurred to Rostron and they exchanged glances as Moody started to rouse Lara from her trance.

"You will wake up now." he snapped his fingers. Lara opened up her eyes and sighed.

"Does she have any memory of this?" Rostron inquired, coming over and offering a hand up. Lara accepted it and stood up, looking a bit flushed.

"No." Moody glanced over at the entrance, where Simpson came in with a telegram in his hand.

"Both surgeons have been killed at the 110th aid station," he told Lara. "the fighting's stopped but it seems that the doctors found a few undetonated land mines."

"Oh Lord," Rostron read the telegram as well. "I suppose they want you two over there to help finish patching up the wounded?"

"And to bring them back," Simpson nodded. "the nearest MASH station is 20 miles as compared to our 2. They would have a better time here. We patch them up and bring them here, then we set out for home."

"Seems simple enough. How much time do you think you'll need?"

"At least 2 days, Captain Rostron. There are nurses at the aid station from a small destroyer but they don't have a hospital ship to turn to. Lara and I better saddle up and get going." Simpson touched Lara's shoulder and she smiled at him. They walked out onto the boat deck and parted company, going to the surgery to stock up on items they would need. Murdoch followed Rostron to the bridge where Lowe was standing watch. Moody had gone below to help Lightoller with his rounds.

"I don't like this, Will. I really don't." Rostron stood beside Murdoch as he checked in with Lowe, who pricked up his ears as Boxhall did.

"I don't like it either sir, but they have to go."

"Sirs?" Lowe interrupted politely.

"Lara and John have been summoned to the nearest aid station, the 110th. The surgeons were killed by a land mine and there are about 20 wounded soldiers that need help immediately. Our surgeons are getting ready." a shoreboat came into view.

"I don't fancy that either." they watched Lara and Simpson with their gear disembark the ship and knew they would be back in two days, hopefully unscathed from the journey. The boat rowed away and was lost to their view as the sun set on the horizon. Rostron pulled out a sextant and began taking celestial fixes. He remembered that Lara had told him celestial navigation was too unreliable in her time and had a quiet laugh at the corners of his mouth. When Lara and Simpson were out of sight, he suddenly couldn't stop thinking about them, especially Lara. He had paternal feelings towards her and liked to keep her safe, so letting her off the ship to head into certain danger and possible death was a bit heartwrenching. From the looks of Lowe and Murdoch, he guessed the others had similar feelings.

Murdoch and Lightoller were her closest friends, then there was Moody, Boxhall and Lowe. Simpson was a gentleman and well liked by everyone he met. The surgeon was a dab hand at poker and was always cleaning out the officers every Wednesday night in the officer's smoking room. Simpson had a waxed mustache which Lara was always at him to shave off entirely. She said it made men all look the same and having lip caterpillars were all very unattractive. Lightoller and Murdoch could attest to this, as they'd had the mustaches before they were married.

Rostron looked at the horizon for a few more minutes and then left the bridge, feeling subdued. The officers felt that way as well and the captain stopped by Boxhall's cabin to inform him of what was going on.

The officer was looking better, though he still seemed a wee bit fragile. Boxhall was reading a book and as Rostron knocked on the door, he put it down and adjusted a woollen blanket while calling for the visitor to come in.

"Hello, Joseph," Rostron took the desk chair and sat down in it near his ill officer. "how are you feeling today?"

"Much better, sir," he had some color back in his cheeks. "I'm glad Lara put me on this stuff-it works very well."

"I'm glad to hear it. Lara said once that stuff runs out you can be free of that device."

"Lara said? Where is she?"

"She and John have been called out to the 110th aid station about 2 miles from here. The surgeons were killed so Lara and John have to go and get the wounded back here safely."

"Sir, I hope they get back safely." Boxhall looked stunned.

"Me too." Rostron looked worried for a few minutes. "How are you coming along on that book?"

Boxhall grinned as he picked it up. "Dantes is being taken to the Chateau d'If right now. Poor guy. I'd have punched those idiot guys' lights out that denounced him."

"I felt the same way when I read the book for the first time." Rostron stood up. "Will you be joining us in the mess hall in about an hour for supper?"

"Yes sir. I might go crazy if I was in this room for a few more hours," Boxhall joked as he smoothed out his pajama top. "Lara drilled into me not to overdo it or I'll be sick again so I really have to watch it."

Rostron laughed as he put his hat back on. "Either one of our surgeons can throw the fear of God into us when we're ill, I believe. One of our past patients once told me that he'd rather be on the front lines again than to be at the mercy of our staff!"

Boxhall knew that was very true. Lara and Simpson were both very strict with their charges and they'd developed some startling looks that one would get if they put a foot out of line. Simpson was understanding the first time, but Lara preferred the scared straight method. She would sit down with the patient and tell him in a detached voice what would happen for complications if they did something wrong again. Rostron and Boxhall had both seen the aftermath of one of her lectures and the poor fellow looked ready to jump ship at the next chance he got. Simpson did not like her graphic descriptions of what could go wrong with a patient that had disobeyed her, but he had to admit that they worked a treat.

"Good of you to call on me, sir." Boxhall drew up his quilt some more as the captain opened up the door.

"Good to see you recovering, Mr. Boxhall." Rostron gave him a warm and friendly smile as he left.

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

It had been a tense few days for Rostron and the officers. Simpson had managed to send them a wire saying that they'd arrived at the aid station and were doing their best to keep the injured soldiers alive and ready for transport. It had been a rough journey to the aid station but they managed it. Cottam had read the wire twice before he brought it over to Rostron, keeping himself in a positive frame of mind. The captain had taken the wire information well and when Cottam had left him alone in his cabin, Rostron offered up a silent prayer that they would all be all right.

Lightoller paced the bridge anxiously, keeping an eye out to the right side of the ship, knowing Lara, Simpson and the convoy of wounded would be coming in that direction. It would be tough to get them all on board, but the electric cargo cranes could be outfitted with body boards and buckles so the soldiers didn't fall. Careful maneuvering would bring them up to the boat deck and then the stewards would bring them into the surgery.

The officer checked the compass and lit the small oil lamp on the side table as it was getting dark outside. He hoped they wouldn't be a lot longer in coming, as enemy fire had been coming in that direction in the past few hours. Lightoller turned up the wick a little bit and set the protective globe around the aluminum base of the lamp, screwing it down firmly. Murdoch was there as well, going over charts in the chart room, trying to distract himself. Occasionally he'd glance at the clock but it meant nothing to him, as the convoy didn't know exactly when they would be there. Frustrated, Murdoch put down his pencil and ruler, then joined Lightoller on the bridge.

Rostron joined them before long, having been too anxious about his medical team to sleep very well that night. Murdoch was straining his eyes to try to see anything while Lightoller stood with him, binoculars in hand. It had begun to snow and Rostron was momentarily enchanted with the weather. He looked around and saw a fine white dusting on the forecastle deck and the mast. The captain shut the door to the chart room, trying to keep it comfortably warm in there for the time being.

"I see something!" Murdoch borrowed the binoculars and focused on a spot in the distance. Rostron and Lightoller joined him, both could see a flicker of a light through the snowy sky. "Yes, it's our convoy of wounded!" he twisted the center dial of the binoculars to focus in more as Lightoller made to grab them from his hands.

"Oi! Here you go, just don't strangle me!" Murdoch pulled off the strap from around his neck.

"Yes it is!" Lightoller confirmed, passing the binoculars onto Rostron.

Once he saw for himself, Rostron was pleased to note that his surgeons appeared to look fine. He went over to the intercom system and paged the stewards who had volunteered to help with the embarkation of the soldiers. They appeared straightaway, manned the cranes, slung up the bodyboards and buckles, and lowered two down over the side at a time. Rostron and the others listened for the reassuring sound of oars being maneuvered through the water, knowing their surgeons were coming back and bringing in the soldiers. It took about twenty minutes for the boat to come to the ship, but finally, Simpson came up over the side, offering a tired salute to Rostron as he straightened up.

"Report if you please." they went into the chart room and Rostron asked for some hot tea to warm up the tired surgeon.

"Twenty injured soldiers, sir. It was a real trial to cart them through the war zone and there are pockets of gunmen out there. They tried to shoot at us several times while we were out there and I could only think of expediting the transport. Fast as we could through a valley and a marshland."

"All survived?"

Simpson smiled as he took off a metal helmet he'd worn for protection. He hadn't gotten much sleep and was pale in the face. Rostron noted he was splattered with mud and a few streaks of blood. "Yes sir. Lara, bless her, was like a rock through the whole ordeal. She's coming down with a bad cold sir, and today she disappeared from the aid station for a few hours and when she came back, she couldn't speak of what she had seen."

"We'll talk about that later." Rostron eyed Simpson's camouflage uniform which was torn and extremely dirty. "Go and clean up now then you can see to your charges. I hope you don't have any urgent cases?"

"The move might have knocked some of our handiwork loose but I hope there aren't any emergency surgeries. We're both exhausted." Simpson accepted the tea from the steward and thanked Rostron as he was dismissed.

Returning to the bridge, Rostron saw Lara standing at the rail, barking orders at the stewards. He smiled, noticing Murdoch and Lightoller smirking to themselves. Lara was in her what they called the dictator routine now. Stewards lined up to take a soldier down below and at least 10 of them could walk freely, surprising the officers.

When the soldiers were all settled a few hours later, Lara hacked roughly into her arm, then turned and saw Murdoch approaching her. "Hi, Will."

"I'm so glad you're back all right!" he swept her away in a hug. "Come on, let's get you fed. Are you hungry?"

"Extremely. Better step away or I'll take a bite out of you." she kidded as they walked off deck. Lightoller grinned at them as he passed on the points of interest onto Lowe, who was just coming on watch now.

* * *

A late supper filled Lara right up and she yawned. "Ugh, thanks, Will. I feel better now."

"You sound congested." Murdoch eyed her, noticing the lines on her face had grown deeper and she had trouble keeping them open for more than 5 minutes. He stirred his tea, wondering what sort of sights she had seen on shore that she wouldn't talk about. Curious, but it wasn't his place to ask about them.

"I think I caught James's cold." she blew her nose on a tissue. "The past 48 hours have not been kind to me."

"A good night's sleep will make you feel better." Lara thought it was cute on Murdoch, the way he fussed over her. Rostron probably would have done the same thing, but he needed to keep his distance from his ship crew as he was the captain.

"I hope so." Murdoch noted that her eyes looked a little red. He took her to her room and watched as she stripped off her muddy cammo outfit, putting it into the laundry chute. She was unscathed from her adventure and the senior officer could not see or detect any bruising or cuts, etc. Lara noticed him watching as she pulled on a long green nightshirt and just smiled at him for a moment as she slid into bed. "Thanks so much, Will." Lara enjoyed Murdoch fussing over her as well when at any other time she would have chased him away. She had acted as a support for Simpson and the nurses, not to mention the soldiers when they were ashore, so it was a relief to relax and be vulnerable for awhile. Murdoch had sensed this and the officer had acted as support for her, taking care of her for a little while.

"My pleasure." he picked up a white fleece blanket she always had folded up at the foot of her bed and spread it over her. "It's cold out there. Sleep tight."

"I will. Goodnight." she turned out the light. Murdoch said goodnight as well and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Lightoller came up behind him, silhouetted in the half light of the boat deck, nearly scaring Murdoch. "Charles!" he hissed. "She's absolutely fine! Come on now, we need to retire."

"She's not hurt? You're sure?"

"Very sure. She had something to eat and went to bed. We'll hear the stories tomorrow."

"You're right," Lightoller glanced past him into the porthole of Lara's room. He could tell from the silhouette inside that she was already fast asleep. "tuckered out to be sure."

"Come on, Charles." Murdoch guided him away. "We're to be off tomorrow."

* * *

The _Titanic_ cut through the mild chop with ease as she was on a course for home. Lowe turned up his coat collar as he came on watch and wondered what his family was doing back home while they were waiting for him. His wife, Nellie, was nursing her father who had been in ill health for many years. His two young children Josie and Harold Junior, of whom Lowe affectionately called Little Man, would be excited to see him again. His children were growing up and Lowe was sad that he couldn't spend much time with them with the war ongoing. Nellie's constant letters were reassuring, yet he still felt like he was missing out on their childhoods. Lowe rubbed his hands together and looked over at the quartermaster behind him. The man was stoically turning the wheel to augment the course and did not take his gaze off the bow.

Turning to face the forecastle, Lowe put his hands together behind his back as Moody went into the chart room.

"Hello, Harold," Lightoller had arrived to relieve him from his watch. "anything new to report?"

"Happily no sir." Lowe grinned. "On this course, we're headed for Liverpool and we will be there within about 3 days, weather permitting."

"Indeed. We shall be spending Christmas with our families then." Lightoller remarked carelessly as the clouds dissipated a bit and the sun tried to peek through.

"Any news from the sick and hurt, sir?"

"I did hear that one or two of the injured took a bad turn last night. Simpson and Lara are down in the operating theater trying to sort them out."

"Is it bad, sir?"

"They didn't say," Lightoller picked up a sextant. "Simpson told me that a few of the soldiers might turn out like this. The stress of the moving them off land and onto the ship might have pulled some stitches or something like that. It's nothing that they can't repair."

"I'm glad of that, sir."

"Aye, Harold, we're counting our blessings." Lightoller smiled at his subordinate and they started to take celestial fixes.

* * *

The following days at sea were routinely simple. The officers stood their watches and the surgeons checked in on their charges twice a day. To everyone's relief, none of the soldiers took a turn for the worst and they began to recuperate from all of the trauma that they had been through. Several nurses took a soldier under their charge and depending if they could walk or not, wheeled them or walked with them around the ship. Simpson organized this, feeling that it would boost morale and let everyone de-stress a bit. Some of the soldiers could do light exercise, so there were arrangements made to go into the ship's gym and under Lara's guidance, they exercised a bit.

There were occasional tours of the bridge and Rostron would always show up and give them kind words and hope they were recovering as well as they could be after their ordeal. The soldiers loved Rostron and practically revered him as well. He was their definition of a captain and after the stories the surgeons had heard about their bully superior, liked Rostron all the more.

"Do you know much about their superior officer, Lara?" Rostron had asked her. She had been standing in the preop ward, making notes on a clipboard as he sidled up to her. Simpson had just gone off duty and Lara was about to start her rounds.

"I've heard things, sir. None of them were good." she replied cautiously.

"Can you tell me? Off the record?"

"I have to get these guys situated, sir. Might I come up to your quarters in half an hour and report to you?" she picked up a stethoscope and draped it over her neck.

"That would be more appropriate." the captain smiled at her and left the preop area.

Half an hour later, Lara reported to him in his quarters and he bid her enter. Abdul the cat came and sniffed at her, standing up on his hind legs and clawing at her pant leg, asking her to pick him up. She obliged and made her way over to the couch that Rostron gestured her to. The cat purred and nudged her hand and she mechanically started to stroke him.

"Their superior, a Colonel Bolton, is a sadistic animal. Apparently he forced his troops to go into combat without just reason, not even knowing there was a minefield nearby. Several of the boys got blown to bits and the colonel didn't even care! To him, the soldiers are just cannon fodder. I've heard other things that make me suspect that the man is not all right in the head, sir. He needs a rubber room if you get my meaning."

"Interesting. Do any of the men know where Bolton is?"

"They don't know, sir. There were eyewitnesses that said he might have run off at the first sight of enemy sniper fire. The man is a loon and I hope he doesn't ever come back to the army at all."

"Interesting," Rostron mused again. "I'll send a wire to the admirality and tell them of your suspicions. Gregory is who we report to and you quite have his ear you know."

Lara smiled. Gregory, a rotund man with a pleasant face, had helped her out before and she liked him very much. "It is my official medical advice that he be sequestered away in a rubber room. He is medically unfit to command."

"I'll put that in the wire." Rostron drafted a message for Cottam to send. "By the way, we are to dock in Southampton tomorrow."

"Weren't we headed for Liverpool?"

"The course got changed at the last minute," Lara did not ask why. War was forever changing everything. "anyway, I would like to lead a short prayer service and spend the evening with the soldiers in some festive Christmas cheer. See if we can put a positive spin on being here." he winked.

"What sort of cheer are we talking about?"

"Singing, telling stories, etc." Lara stood up as he read the message, changed some words, then handed it to her to ask Cottam to send. "What are you doing this Christmas?"

"I've no idea, sir. I haven't had a letter from Henry so I think he's still out on patrol over the holiday."

"Henry Wilde? He is quite a catch." Rostron winked. Lara giggled shyly and put Abdul on the floor gently. The cat glared at her, like he was offended his caressing and stroking time was over already, and walked out of the room indignantly.

"I know, sir. Other than that, I'll stay on board ship."

"Come on, Lara! Surely you wouldn't mind staying with me, my wife and daughter for the holidays?"

The surgeon pretended to mull this over. "I might be persuaded, sir."

"Excellent!" he got up and clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll let Ethel know and our daughter Sam will be delighted to meet you. She's always hearing so much about you from me and asked if she could meet you someday. Don't you make a liar out of me to my own daughter!" Lara laughed.

* * *

CHRISTMAS EVE

Rostron listened to Sam playing the piano and relaxed back with a contented smile on his face. Ethel sat next to him on the couch and leaned into him as he put his left arm around her shoulder. A Christmas tree sparkled in one corner, hung with red and green baubles and some homemade ornaments Sam had made several years ago. The house was cozy for Christmas and Lara sat nearby in an armchair, appreciatively listening to Sam playing as well.

Pine boughs lined the mantelpiece, a fire roared in the fireplace, punctuating the air with the occasional snap as pitch from the pine log would be heated. Three stockings hung from the mantlepiece as well and a miniature Santa stood up in the center of the mantelpiece, looking ready to deliver the goods from his bag. Lara sipped at hot chocolate from a mug decorated with snowflakes, clad in a red top and green tartan skirt. Under the tree rested several brightly colored presents and Sam could not wait to dig into the goodies, though she had to wait until the morning like the rest of them.

Ethel and Sam had been very kind to Lara, Sam chattering her ear off at every chance she got. Rostron and Ethel had curbed her a bit in this impulse, but Lara long believed that asking as many questions as you wanted to helped in the long run, so she took Sam off for a walk and allowed her to ask anything she wanted. Lara bought them lunch that day in a little diner a few blocks over, and before the day was out, they were good friends.

Sam had pointed out an apron that her mom said she would like to get and Lara got it for her. She also took Sam's advice on what to get her dad, a beautiful leather-bound notebook to keep his ship's log or personal thoughts. For Sam herself, after they got back from their adventures that afternoon, Lara had gone to the corner store and bought beads, wire, and a pair of needlenose pliers. The surgeon wove a necklace for Sam out of her two favorite colors, pink and purple, expertly fastening a catch and wrapping it up.

"Very nice, my dear," Rostron and Ethel applauded Sam's playing and Lara did as well. "you're really improving on your piano lessons. Time to hustle up to bed or Santa will miss us."

"Don't want that now!" the 8-year-old girl squeaked. She said goodnight and dashed upstairs obediently. Lara giggled and put Sam's present into her stocking on the mantle.

"I think it's time for us to turn in as well." it was nearing 9. Lara said goodnight to them and went to bed a few minutes later.

* * *

Christmas day was white and cold. Sam opened up her eyes to see the world was glittering with newly fallen snow. It was about 8:30 that morning and she sprang up out of bed joyfully, already wound up with childish enthusiasm. Throwing on a robe over her nightie, she went out of her room to Lara's, rapping on the door and calling her name. Lara opened it and Sam was surprised to see that she was already dressed.

"I'm used to getting dressed first-I don't want anyone to see me in my nightshirt!" Lara laughed. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Merry Christmas!" the child threw her arms around Lara and hugged her. Lara smiled and picked her up. "Let's go get breakfast started, yes?"

"I wanna open my presents!"

"You can do that later when your mom and dad are up. Let's make them something special for breakfast."

"OK!" Lara stoked up the fire in the fireplace and then turned to the open kitchen at the other end of the wide room. She put her helper on a chair and set her to scramble eggs while she fried up some bacon.

"Here's my little secret," Lara stood behind Sam and guided her on mixing up the eggs. "a little green pepper, chopped, and some cubes of ham... it'll taste great."

Sam watched as Lara fried the eggs until they were golden brown, and tipped out a portion onto a plate. A few pieces of bacon and she covered the plate to keep it warm. When two servings had been doled out, Lara sent Sam upstairs to get her parents up for breakfast.

Rostron came down, smelling the air and grinning widely. Ethel was very happy herself that she didn't have to cook! "That smells divine!" he exclaimed, sitting down.

"Gentleman, milady." Lara served them and mixed up some more for herself and Sam. The little girl ate ravenously and when she was done, asked for permission to open her presents. Permission was readily granted and the adults settled in with mugs of coffee, happy to watch Sam in all her glory.

Sam loved the necklace Lara had made for her and put it on right away. Ethel was delighted with her new apron, Rostron was very pleased with his new notebook. Lara didn't expect any presents from them, so she was surprised when Sam handed her a big package. Opening it up, she found a beautiful white and blue cashmere and silk shawl to wear. The surgeon's jaw fell open, causing everyone to laugh heartily.

"While you were out with Sam yesterday, we got you this," Ethel told her. "it looks like you and they are your favorite colors."

"Aw, thank you!" Lara couldn't say enough thanks as Rostron pecked her on the cheek.

"Our pleasures, dearie." he winked, making her laugh. "Before I forget, I got a package a few days ago and a note asking if I could deliver it to you on Christmas." he handed her a small delicate looking box and she opened it up. Inside were two small sand dollars that had been mounted on earring posts. Lara reverently took them and held them up in the light. The sand dollars were as big as nickels and she fell in love with them instantly. A note fell out and she picked it up.

"From the south seas of the Philippine islands," she read aloud. "faithfully, Henry."

"He would never forget you." Rostron hugged her and watched as she put the earrings in.

"I didn't doubt he would," Lara beamed. "Ethel? Want any help with that big fat turkey?"

"I can hardly pick him up!"

"Excuse me sir, that's my cue!" Lara went over to help, both women laughing helplessly as they wrestled the big bird onto the platter and shoved him into the oven to roast.

The rest of the day was enveloped in Christmas cheer, Sam's piano playing, and many visits from friends and officers alike. The snow started to fall silently about evening time and the story telling started by the fireplace until Sam got too tired to listen anymore. Ethel put her to bed and Rostron shared stories from his times at sea until it was almost midnight.

END PART 5


	6. Chapter 6

QUARANTINE

"Lara!" Lowe threw open her room door, startling her from a sound sleep. Cursing, she rubbed her eyes and glared at Lowe, who reached over and grabbed her arm. It was pitch black in and outside and Lara wondered what time it was. "Come on, quickly!"

"Where's the fire, Harold?" pulling on her fleece robe, clogs, and her black bag, she reluctantly followed the second officer.

"It's Will! He's been hurt!" it was raining and Lara had to dodge between the drops as Lowe threw open a side door and hustled her downstairs into the bowels of the ship. He released her as he heard her stepping up the pace and steered her down to the engine room. An engineer was kneeling by a steam piston with a prone body leaning against his lap. Lara's face drained of color and fell to her feet beside Murdoch and the engineer.

"What happened?" Lara set her bag down and pulled out her stethoscope. Murdoch was bleeding from an injury just behind his right temple. It didn't look to be too serious and he was half conscious, eyes glazed over and not looking at anything in particular.

"He was inspecting one of the shafts when a superheated piece of coal came shooting out like a bullet from a gun." the engineer told her as he shifted Murdoch's weight a bit. Lara listened to his heart which was a little fast but not by much.

"Come on, let's get him to the surgery. Will?" he looked at her with no recognition in his eyes. "We need to get you upstairs. Do you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah." he grunted.

"Good. Come on you two.." Lowe and the engineer supported Murdoch as they started making their way upstairs. On the way, Lara grabbed a red pail from a fire hose nearby.

"What's that for?"

"You'll be thankful when it happens." Lara hadn't treated many head cases but the initial result of a head wound was almost always the same. In almost no time, Murdoch turned green and began to retch, hitting the pail almost immediately. The engineer gave her a little smile and complimented her thinking.

"Thanks." they wrestled Murdoch upstairs into the exam room and Lara sent Lowe to wake up Simpson. "He's the head doctor, I'm the gastrointestinal one!" Lara pulled on a pair of plastic gloves, got a nurse to stand by if Murdoch started to struggle, and began to clean his head wound. "It was a clean hit," she muttered. "It's in there but I can get it..." she washed the injury with alcohol, causing Murdoch to try to escape. The nurse held him down with surprising strength as Simpson came in, rubbing his eyes and putting on a scrub shirt as Lara clipped off the hair around the wound.

"Let me see..." Simpson put on gloves and adjusted the overhead light so he could see the area better. "yeah, a clean shot... time for an x-ray to see how bad it is."

"Right. I'll get it warmed up." Lara shed her gloves and hustled off to the adjoining x-ray room while the nurse helped Simpson strip Murdoch of his uniform and put him in a johnny.

"Best give him about 5 ccs of Lorazepam," Simpson muttered. Murdoch was still trying to fight it and he was making grunting noises and muttering under his breath. None of it was very coherent and Simpson was already worried that Murdoch had damaged the speech center of the brain. "might be aphasia."

Murdoch was quieted down with the Lorazepam and sank into a stupor as he was put on the x-ray table and the nurse donned a lead apron to guide the machine to his head. Behind the barrier, Simpson and Lara sat down to monitor Murdoch and the images as the nurse clicked away on the machine. After about 3 exposures, Simpson was satisfied with the result and they sat down to study it on the computer monitor.

"The coal bit shot out of a superheated tube or something..." Simpson echoed what Lara had told him, tapping the image with the pen he held. "Looks like it winged him right in the parietal lobe."

"Clean shot in the primary motor cortex," Lara muttered. "that's why he sounds like he's drunk."

"Inevitably. The shot went in, puncturing his skin and jostled his skull. We'll need to perform a craniotomy to relieve the pressure. There's a small subarachnoid hematoma forming so we should put a drain in there for now. The brain's going to swell in protest so it's urgent we get crackin'." Simpson stood up and put Murdoch's x-ray on the backlight in the operating room. The nurse had already foreseen the need for surgery and had set Murdoch up with an IV.

"Good work." Simpson said approvingly as he donned an operating gown. Lara tied the tapes in the back, he did hers, then they went to scrub in.

Lowe had heard through an orderly that Murdoch needed immediate surgery. He crossed his arms as he was still on watch, and glared out at the forecastle deck in front of him, like a principal at disobedient schoolchildren. Murdoch had asked Lowe to accompany him on his rounds, then down in the engine room they found several engineers trying to unclog a steam pipe shaft which had lodged a piece of coal inside it. Their machinations had loosened the piece, then it shot out of the shaft as it was still hot, and clipped Murdoch on the side of the head. Lowe had been trying to unscrew the pipe threads at the other end and he heard the thud Murdoch made as he hit the ground.

The surgery would likely take a few hours so Lowe was better off on watch where he could pace and worry about the ship as a distraction from Murdoch's injury. He wondered how Lightoller would take the news, as Lightoller was best friends with Murdoch. The second officer did not send anyone to awaken Rostron or Lightoller and tell them, as he knew it would be fruitless to tell them when a prognosis on Murdoch's condition was uncertain. He would rather wake them up and have them know the full story and the prognosis all at once.

When they had all returned from their holidays, they all looked happier and healthier than usual. Lara had spent Christmas with Rostron's family and she had nothing but good things to say of them. Rostron entertained them all with a story about how Lara and his wife Ethel had wrestled with a big turkey to roast that day. It had been butchered properly but nobody had the sense to pluck the feathers off of the hard to get places so the two women had to pluck the bird thoroughly before it could be roasted. Both of the women were in bad moods when they were finally done and it took some piano playing from Rostron's daughter to get them to liven back up.

Lowe stood watch until 6 a.m. when Lightoller came in, looking fresh as a daisy and with a spring in his step. The second officer handed over the points of interest to the first officer and was relieved when he saw Simpson walking up to them a few minutes later.

The surgeon looked tired and he was pulling on his regular white shirt as he sidled up to the officers. Lightoller turned to see him as Lowe looked apprehensively at the surgeon. "Yes, Dr. Simpson?"

"Sir. Mr. Lightoller, Mr. Murdoch had a mishap down in the engineering department," Simpson and Lowe briefly recounted what had happened. Lightoller paled up considerably as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "we performed a craniotomy to relieve the pressure buildup and we put in a temporary drain to allow the blood to empty. I'll remove it as soon as the blood dries and the hematoma heals."

"Um, good." Lightoller flinched.

"Is the captain up yet?"

"I believe so."

"Good. Lara is going up to tell him."

At the same time, Lara was looking at Rostron tiredly as he started pacing, distressed at his officer's injury. "What's the lookout for him, Lara?" he made a grab for Abdul and started stroking him. The cat purred, happy to be the center of attention for once.

"The injury itself isn't a severe one, sir. Murdoch was mumbling before we put him under and that means there is some damage to the primary motor cortex. It'll take some time to determine how extensive the damage to his cortex is but I think we will have him back up to the bridge and working again."

Rostron smiled tenatively as he stroked his cat again. "How long before you know how bad it is?"

"He's going to remain asleep for the rest of the day, sir. Simpson is the head doctor so you'd have to ask him really. He'll need to undergo some speech and spatial tests, that kind of thing. We'll be giving him some memory tests, problem-solving, etc."

"You're confident?"

"I am, sir. It might be touch and go for awhile until we know the extent of the damage, but I know he'll be back on the bridge." Lara rubbed Abdul's ears and was rewarded with a purr.

"I'll pray for him."

"Me too, sir."

"That'll be all, Lara. Dismissed." she nodded to him politely and left to go back to the surgery.

A few hours later, Lara looked up from her observations on Murdoch and saw Moody coming towards her, his face flushed and his eyes were glassy. "Lara, I don't feel particularly well."

"Come into the exam room, James," she said with a little sigh. "up on the table." the officer knew the drill, taking off his peacoat and hanging it up nearby. He lay down on the exam table while Lara auscultated his lungs and heart, then checked the fever that was starting. "You have a 102 degree fever, so you're off duty as of now."

"Yay?" he asked, trying to look pitiful.

"No. This is the flu."

"Oh, god," he groaned. "how long am I going to be out for?"

"In terms of illness, at least a week."

"Oh."

"This is the flu, so I need to enact quarantine procedures. The reception room is especially outfitted with what I'll need to administer to you. Come on up, go get your night things and plenty of books."

"Wonderful." Moody grunted as he got up and pulled his peacoat off the rack. "Meet you in the reception room in 15 minutes."

"Fine. I have to alert Rostron of what's going on." Lara picked up her jacket and told Simpson that Moody had the flu and that she was going to inform the captain.

"I'll get to work on the quarantine paperwork," Simpson sighed as he pulled a sheaf of paper sheets over to his side of the desk. "take good care of Moody, I'll send you word via the intercom system on how Will's handling everything."

"Good. Keep me informed." Lara left and went up to the captain's cabin.

Rostron, as Lara imagined, was not happy to hear that his youngest officer was ill. He paced up and down his living room and looked at Lara with an anxious eye. "Back where I come from sir, there are flu shots but they haven't been invented yet here."

"Well that's hardly to help us, is it?!" Rostron snapped, looking pale and drawn. "I would fail to see why you mention something that hasn't happened yet if it can't be useful in these circumstances!" Abdul meowed at his leg, standing on his hind legs and inserting a paw into the cuff of his master's pants, extending his claws into the flesh.

"Will you cease your shenanigans!" he barked at the cat, who fled indignantly. Lara surveyed the captain with a critical eye, knowing that he wasn't himself. The stress of Murdoch's injury and Moody's illness wouldn't have affected him so much, so she knew something else was going on. She took a bold step forward and looked him in the eye. There was a faint flush of color on his cheeks that she hadn't noticed before, and she put her hand on his left cheek.

"You have a fever, sir."

"Do I? I'm sorry, Lara. I didn't mean to snap at you, dear."

"That's the Rostron I know. Come on, get your night things and your books. Looks like you're in quarantine as well."

"Make sure to ask Cottam to radio the admirality about this," he mumbled as he moved like a robot. "we'll need replacement officers until we're all well."

"What port are we headed for, sir?"

"We're going to Mudros." Rostron handed her a file. "This will tell you the procedures to follow until we are all well."

"Quarantine is the first class reception room." she walked the ill captain down to the room where Moody was already clad in his nightclothes and sitting on a bed under one of the port side windows. Legs crossed and in pinstriped pajamas, he looked like a little child ready to have his parents come and kiss him goodnight. Rostron claimed the bunk on Moody's right, bunching up the privacy curtain and fastening the curtain to one side with a stout piece of rope. He put his bag down and went off into the lavatory to change up as Moody watched Lara pull out a set of keys and unlock a large box mounted on the wall full of medical supplies.

"OK now I want you to know that the flu is a virus, and all the drugs in the world can't stop it," she informed him, pulling out an IV bag and digging an IV pole out of the supply closet. "all I can really do is treat your symptoms accordingly, meaning if you get a fever like you have, I can give you medicine to lower it. If your head hurts, I can give you a drug to help the pain, etc. This particular flu strain is very dehydrating I've heard, and I need to keep you on IVs until your fever breaks."

"Your antibiotics won't help this?" Moody watched as she pulled out an IV catheter needle and checked his arm for a place to put it. Lara numbed the back of his hand with a special ointment and quickly selected a vein and jabbed it, happy when she saw she had gotten it right immediately. Moody fidgeted a bit but she scolded him, taping down the catheter and readying the IV bag on the pole. Lara took the bag's end and the end of the IV tubing, jamming it into the bag's receptacle firmly. Moody watched, hearing a releasing hissing noise and the clear cylinder just below the IV bag began to fill with the sterile saline. It filled to a certain level and then began to drip steadily. Lara attached the catheter tubing to the IV tubing, screwing it firmly in place.

"If you need the loo, you can use this pole and walk around with it. No recreational walking around until your fever breaks, all right?"

"Fine," Moody didn't argue when she pulled up the blankets a bit. "are we allowed any visitors?"

"None other than me. I've already been exposed."

"Will you get sick?"

"That's the beauty of already having this flu," Lara explained. "I have antibodies against it so it isn't likely I'll get sick."

"Lucky."

"Whatever. Simpson and I have to go over the quarantine procedures as soon as I get Rostron all settled in." Lara repeated the same procedure with Rostron and saw him tucked into his bed with a book in his hand. She left a pitcher and two glasses on one bedside table between them and left the room, promising to return in half an hour.

"Charles?" Lightoller turned to see Lara standing behind him looking apprehensive.

"News on Will?" he tucked his white scarf tighter around his neck as the ship plunged through the seas. A moderate gale had been stirred up but Lightoller didn't think that it would last long.

"He's still sleeping."

"Out with it, Lara. What's going on?"

"Moody and Rostron have taken sick, so you are the acting captain until I declare them fit again."

"Oh," his eyes widened. "what's wrong with them?"

"They've got the flu."

"Can they receive visitors?"

"Not now, Charles. I just got them settled in. Under shipboard regulations, Simpson and I have to declare this ship a quarantine zone. Are we close to Mudros?"

"About a day or two out, yes."

"Good. You may visit Rostron and Moody when you are off watch. If they are sleeping, just leave a note. Simpson, being the brain specialist, is staying with Murdoch much of the time right now. Be thankful we have no wounded yet."

"Yes ma'am," Lightoller smiled, trying to lift her half smiled, appreciating the gesture. "going over quarantine regs?"

"Yup. Can you summarize them for me?"

"Of course. When a ship becomes infested with the flu, the captain has to be informed by the medical team. The captain, if unafflicted, then wires the admirality to tell them of their condition. The admirality will issue a warning to all of the fleet to avoid us, we stay in port for 2 weeks or longer, depending on how long it takes for the disease to run its course."

"Should be on the inside of two weeks," Lara mumbled. "what about captain's logs, anything like that? Paperwork?"

"Any items of interest will be in the ship's log, which we officers maintain. I will order the ship to be anchored in a quiet cove so she won't be noticed by any enemies or allies."

"I have to get down to Simpson and write the official report on Murdoch's accident." Lara mumbled as Lightoller went into the chart room to plot a course. He rather liked being in charge of a ship for once, though he had to admit that Rostron was more adept than he was. Barely noticing that Lara had left, he pulled out a compass and began to confer with Boxhall on their course.

Simpson met Lara on the way to the surgery, having just written down a telegram for Cottam to send off to the admirality. The two had a brief lunch and then sat down with the file of documents Rostron had lent Lara. Simpson perused them all while Lara wrote out her official report, occasionally asking Simpson for his advice on writing it. The report had to be copied, one had to be put in Murdoch's health file, and the other had to be sent to the admirality offices for their health records. Writing the report two times, Lara had to remind herself to be as legible as she possibly could.

"Done," she signed the second report, folded it up, then addressed it to the admirality offices in London. Simpson countersigned them with her, then put one copy in Murdoch's onboard health file. "how's he doing?"

"Will? He was awake a few times but nothing he said really made sense."

"Aphasia do you think?"

"No, I think he was too groggy really. Those drugs knocked him for a loop."

"I bet they did. Anyway, I better go up to the sickies," Lara stood up. "Moody gets restless sometimes so I need to keep a close eye on him."

"Don't forget to keep a log of their symptoms," Simpson reminded her, handing her two clipboards, each full of blank log sheets. Lara ran her finger down them, seeing the patient name at the top, left side blank margins for her to write the date and time in, and several lines running down the sheet so she could record her observations. Tucking a pen into her ponytail so she wouldn't forget it, she gave Simpson a tight smile of thanks and set off for the quarantine zone.

Moody looked up from his book, thinking he heard Lara coming back, but he was wrong. The call of nature assailed him and he stood up, sliding his feet into his slippers and grasping the IV pole awkwardly. Rostron was dozing and in an effort not to wake him up, Moody walked stealthily across the floor about ten paces away to the lavvy. When he was coming back, he failed to notice the supply room door was ajar, tripped, and fell on his face. Rostron woke up with a jolt, saw Moody standing up and trying not to curse, and started giggling.

"Sorry if I woke you, sir." red-raced, the officer shuffled back to his bed.

"No, that's all right. A little humor on these occasions is required," Rostron said grandly, wishing the uncomfortable heat in his cheeks would just go away. "by the way, that was the most graceful fall I've ever seen!"

Moody sighed. It was going to be a long week to him. He just knew it.

At that moment, Lara came in, seeing Moody standing up and Rostron chortling gleefully. She rolled her eyes but did not comment on what was apparently going on. She marshalled him back to bed, put the covers up over him and did a fever check. His fever was steady and so was Rostron's, so Lara cautiously hoped that their fevers were as high as they were going to go, but inwardly knew better. Rostron picked up a book and so did Moody, though he was dozing after every other page.

"James, go to sleep already," Lara scolded him, sitting at the desk nearby. "the more sleep you get, the more your body will be able to fight the disease."

"Seems so weird for me to sleep in the middle of broad daylight."

"Here, I'll draw the curtains." Lara did so, knotting the blinds' cords up high enough so that nobody would be able to touch them. The room darkened considerably and Moody found the darkness easier to close his eyes against. "Better?"

"Much." his voice drawled as he drifted off.

After about an hour, Lightoller came off watch and asked permission to see Rostron, to bring him up to date on the shipboard activities. Lara peeked over at Rostron and found he was sound asleep, so asked Lightoller to leave a small note for his superior.

"I'll give it to him when I think he's ready," Lara warned him. "I can't have anything stressing him out or he'll get worse. I'm sure you wouldn't stress him on purpose," she soothed, seeing he was about to object. "but nevertheless, I have to monitor him closely."

"I completely understand," Lightoller reassured her. "he's in good hands you know."

"Thanks, Charles."

"You should rest yourself. You look tired."

"Not yet anyway. I'll come down for supper soon." Lightoller watched her, seeing that she did look a little pale, even in the dim light of the room, but he trusted her to look after herself accordingly. He went to the mess, departing Lara with a jolly smile to pick up her spirits and met Boxhall there, who was just finishing up.

Late that night, Lara pulled out a cot and set it up, intending to be near her two charges in case something happened to them. She took their temperatures again, checked on the IV bags to make sure they had a reasonable amount of saline in to last the night, and made notations on the clipboard. Moody's fever had gone up so she administered some tetracycline to try to bring it down some, doing the same to Rostron as well. The captain was asleep and barely moving at all, where in contrast, Moody was all over the place. His dreams were very realistic, Lara supposed, for he looked like he was trying to act them out. The doctor sat down next to his bed and took one of his hot hands in her own, trying to soothe and cool them down when she noticed that Moody seemed to be reacting to her.

He stopped being restless and turned over so that he was facing her, his feverish blue eyes not registering her at all. Lara had expected that but it was still a bit shocking to her all the same. He brought up her hand to his face and indulged the coolness she possessed for a long minute. "Mom?" he asked, clearly in the beginnings of a delirium.

Lara's heart sank. She had hoped that Moody wouldn't be delirious but often times it happened. The tetracycline didn't seem to have any effect on him at all so she decided to let the fever run its course. Unwilling to burst his feverish bubble, she just nodded and he closed his eyes.

"Sweet of you not to deny it," Rostron spoke in a low voice from his bed. "poor man."

Lara shifted so that she was between the two sick men, Moody still hanging on to her hand. "I don't have the heart to, sir."

"That is partially what makes you such a good doctor."

"Thank you, sir."

"The medicine you gave him doesn't seem to be having any effect at all?"

"None whatsoever, Captain." Rostron looked mildly flushed and he was nowhere near the delirium stage like Moody. Lara supposed Rostron had many illnesses in the line of duty and he had built up a better resistance to them. Moody being younger did not have the defenses that Rostron had, which was another trade off of young versus older.

"To sleep with you, Lara." he told her kindly. "You won't be of any use to us if you get sick."

"It's been a long day." she ruefully smiled.

"For everyone." Rostron watched her go to bed and closed his eyes.

For the next 2 days, Lara fought a patient battle with Moody's flu bug. His fever would go up and down, he would be restless one moment and quiet the next. Rostron helped the best he could, since his fever had gone down a bit and he was now at 101. Lara restrained Rostron as much as she dared, but knew that he knew his body's limits and trusted him to stay within them the best he could.

Lowe and Boxhall had come down with the flu as well and Lara had put them in beds opposite Moody and Rostron. She managed her charges quietly and like Moody, Boxhall's fever went up to 105 and Lowe's was 103. Simpson came up often to trade shifts with Lara, giving her a break and allowing her to go down to be with Murdoch for a few hours. The chief officer was healing slowly from his injury and was able to talk normally, which was a big relief for everyone. He did not remember much of the accident which was a good sign to Lara, wanting him to be as stress free as possible.

On the third day of quarantine, Lara came into the recovery room where Murdoch was lying in his bed, and sat down beside him with a smile of hello. He took one look at her and told her that she looked very tired.

"I had a good night last night," she protested to him. "I slept well."

"You don't look it." Murdoch was having some trouble with complex words which frustrated him, but Simpson had told him he would overcome that stumbling block soon. All spatial and memory testing carried out on the chief officer had all returned the verdict of completely normal, which relieved everyone. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"I doubt it." Lara had experienced a bit of nausea a few days ago but nothing else.

Simpson had said that Murdoch could get up and walk around, something he was looking forward to greatly. Lara helped him as much as she dared, encouraging him every step of the way literally. Murdoch was irritated that something so simple should be so hard like putting one foot in front of the other, but Lara tried to rally his spirits up.

"Come on, Will. When you were a baby, it was impossible to crawl for a long time," she helped him sit down again. "think about it. After such an accident, you are walking and talking and that's quite an accomplishment!"

Murdoch was irritated but tried hard not to show it. He quite liked Lara and didn't want to hurt her feelings. "Perhaps. You know I'm just impatient, Lara."

"Who wouldn't be?" she retorted. "You don't need months of rehabilitative therapy and whatnot. Simpson will give you some trial days on the bridge to make sure you can do your job again and you'll be good to go. Lie down, I have to change your bandage."

"Yes ma'am." he smiled. Lara looked over his injury site, noted no reaction, and put a much smaller bandage on his wound now. The drain had been removed the night of the accident as there was no blood in it, a good sign the internal hemorrhaging was over. Murdoch made a few good-natured comments on his wound, mainly on how Simpson had to remove some of his hair to get at the site and how fast it would grow back.

"I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to help you out." she promised.

"Do you think we only use 10 percent of our brains?"

Lara looked at him quizzically for a moment and smiled. "No. That's just hubris. To drink tea even, we use over 80 percent of our brains, Will." Murdoch looked a bit confused until she showed him Simpson's book on parts of the brain and said it would make for some light reading. Groaning with a smile on his face, he said goodnight to Lara as she turned out the light and left.

When she left Murdoch, she shut the door to the recovery room and met Simpson on the way to his quarters. He appraised her with his eyes and asked if she felt all right.

"I swear to you and everyone else on this ship that I am fine! I had a bit of nausea a few days ago and that's all."

"Nausea?" Simpson took her into the exam room and shut the door. "Any other symptoms?"

"A little pelvic pain," she admitted. "it went away, though, John."

"Up on the table then. I want to make sure you're not in female trouble." Lara lay supine and Simpson unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to expose her pelvic region. "Sorry if my hands are cold." he told her with a smile. "Where was the pain?"

"My left side." Lara stared up at the ceiling as Simpson's mildly cold hands palpated her left pelvic side.

"Does that hurt?"

"No."

"You've never been pregnant before, right?" he pulled over the ultrasound machine and after following Lara's directions on how to warm it up, he picked up a bottle of gel.

"I've had two miscarriages, John. What are you getting at?" she demanded sharply, wincing as he slathered cold gel on her pelvis and put the probe down on top of it, moving it around to get a better picture.

"Nothing at the moment," he reassured her. Simpson checked her left side. "you've got an ovarian cyst, really small. That'll rupture soon and slough away normally like almost all of them do. Did you ever find out why you miscarried twice?"

"All the doctor said was that it shouldn't have happened and that was all. He never did any studies or anything really." Lara turned her head to the monitor so she could watch.

"That was a neglectful thing to do."

"Tell me about it." she sighed.

Simpson brought the probe to the uterine fundus and frowned, moving it around in circles. "Hang on, I see something in there."

"What?!" Lara raised herself up on her elbows so she could see better. They both saw a white string of what looked like beads and a few other whitish dots. Lara showed Simpson how to turn the image to 4D and they both saw a little face with tightly closed eyes. A long cord floated into view and Simpson turned to look at his colleague.

"Guess what?"

"I haven't had sex in ages!" she glanced down at her pelvis as if she could garner an answer from it. The monitor image moved around, tiny feet kicking up into the fluid filled space around it. Simpson chuckled at the image as he held the probe down securely, turning to look at Lara.

"When was the last time?"

"Halloween!"

"Have you had your monthly since then?"

"Once." she stared at the image onscreen for a long and hard moment.

"Then it's easy. I studied those books you lent me and it takes a month to implant so effectively you've been pregnant since the last week of November. It takes time to feel those symptoms and some women hardly ever or even never feel them at all. Do you know who the father is?"

"Of course! I didn't let an incubus have his way with me! The father is Henry Wilde."

"Then I think you have a letter to write."

"I guess so." Lara stared at the fetus onscreen as it seemingly mocked her, fluttering its tiny hands. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Say what?" Simpson halted in wiping off the gel from Lara's pelvis.

"I have to keep this secret. I don't want anything to do with this child, and I know I'll miscarry it."

"This might be different. What if you carry it effectively?"

"I'll deal with that later. My history is that I've never carried past the halfway point, John. I know my body."

"I hope this will be different for you. I wish to take a look inside your vagina and make sure it is up to par."

"Fine." Simpson readied the instrument as Lara shed her pants. In the proper position with all the doors locked shut, Lara gasped as she felt a cold sensation, then turned to look at the monitor. From what they both could tell, everything was fine. Simpson asked if she wanted a picture of the unborn one and she sharply declined, saying that she wanted no remembrance of the child who would inevitably be miscarried. Simpson shrugged and put everything away indifferently, agreeing to keep her secret.

Up in the quarantine zone, Moody and Boxhall's fevers had gone down about half a degree which was encouraging, but not what Lara wanted. She had just pulled out a piece of stationary and had written "Dear Henry" when she heard the door open and saw Lightoller come in, looking flushed.

"Oh, not you too!" he took off his hat and turned to her.

"I'm afraid so." Lightoller said weakly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "it came on me so fast I didn't know what was going on."

"Fast? The flu usually starts out as a mild fever," Lara checked his temperature which was already at 104.5. "Charles, you've had malaria before haven't you?"

His fever-bright blue eyes looked at her listlessly. "Yes."

"That's what you have. It's flaring up because you're under stress." she informed him as she readied a bed beside Rostron's. The captain was sound asleep and motionless while Moody on the other side continued to make distressed faces while he dreamt. Lowe and Boxhall were motionless across the way, sleeping comfortably.

"How is he?" Lightoller nodded to Moody as he took off his peacoat and hung it up.

Lara sighed as she handed him pajamas. "He's not responding to the medicine so I guess he just has to fight it out. James was the first one sick, Charles, and his attack of fever has been dangerous."

"What of the others?" she turned her back to him as he changed, her right hand sliding down to her waist for a moment and a little lower, letting her thoughts drift for a second.

"Everyone else's attacks of the flu have been relatively light. Rostron's in particular is on the wane and he'll be up and about again quite soon." Lara turned back as she heard Lightoller get into bed. "I've got the medicine to restore you back to full health so never fear." he was so red faced he looked like he was blushing. The senior officer smiled, knowing that Lara and Simpson could put him to rights in no time.

"Sure he doesn't have anything else wrong with him?"

"James?" Lightoller nodded. "There's always a question of that, but let me check." Lara went over to the very ill officer and checked his neck, pried open his mouth and shined a small penlight into his throat. "You're right, Charles. He's got a severe case of tonsillitis as well as the flu."

"Why didn't you notice it before?"

"Some symptoms tend to mask others. I can remove his tonsils without any trouble," putting on a sterile gown, mask and gloves, Lara drew the curtain divider down, remarking, "you don't want to see this." She put on a head lamp and adjusted the beam of light, set a sterilized set of instruments on the window ledge behind the bed and two small stainless steel kidney shaped bowls. Moody was given Pentothal for sedation, and Lara began to get to work.

When she was done, she had two grossly swollen tonsils in the kidney bowl of which she covered and walked them down to the incinerator. Lara tidied up Moody and put a temperature probe in his ear, checking to see what it was and how much it would go down in the oncoming hours. "Starting point 104.3." she mumbled, writing it down.

"Poor kid," said a different voice. Lowe was sitting up and watching her by the low light of the deck lamps outside the window. "how is he?"

"Too soon to tell, Harold." Lara went to her desk and picked up her pen. "How do you feel?"

"Better. What's up with Charles there?"

"He's got an attack of malaria."

"Huh, you don't say. I've had that once. Nasty disease."

"Yes I know you have. We've got the medicine to fight it. Speaking of which, I'd better give him some." since Lightoller's fever was so high, Lara felt justified in giving him a big dose of quinine and penicillin. She took a wet washcloth and put it on his forehead gently, doing the same with Rostron and Moody. Boxhall received one as well and Lara checked Lowe over systematically. "You've been sick less than a week and you're already recovering. I don't think your fever went above 103 at all."

"Probably," he agreed cheerily. His fever was down to a low-grade classification, meaning it was 100.1. "Another night of rest and I hope it breaks tomorrow!"

"Me too. You'll keep to your cabin for a day," the doctor warned him. "then rebuild your routine gently. Too fast means you'll relapse and I'll have to read you the riot act."

"Don't want that!" the officer smiled as he lay down on the bed again and closed his eyes, pulling up the bedclothes. Soon he was sound asleep.

"Sleep now." Lara sat down at her desk again and began the letter to Wilde.

_"Dear Henry,_

_"I miss you, love. Things have been crazy here on the ship and all the officers except Charles have come down with the flu bug. It's really something to see how the flu affects each person. Rostron and Lowe had mild cases of it, Boxhall's is a little more moderate, and Moody's was the worst. I identified tonsillitis as well which was making him miserable, so I operated at once, and I bet he'll make a full recovery within a few days. He's young and fighting fit so I bet he'll bounce back._

_"Murdoch suffered a head injury almost a week ago, poor thing. A superheated piece of coal shot out of an apparatus or something and clocked him on the head. Simpson and I had to perform surgery on him and he's recovering quite well. I suppose it is beneficial to be declared a quarantine ship so Murdoch can get some extra care as well. If we had been carrying wounded home, it would have been a different story._

_"Charles is suffering a relapse of his malaria which he picked up working the African Mail Service run years ago. He's comfortable now but I know it'll get worse before it gets better. He tells me that's his usual pattern of symptoms and I'm inclined to agree with him. Once everyone's up again, I can move Charles back to his room where Simpson and I can trade off shifts on caring for him while he's so ill._

_"Henry, remember our little tryst on Halloween? I quite enjoyed it of course, and you seem to have left me with a little memento of the encounter._

_"I'll be plain. I just discovered today that I am with your child. I did not notice any symptoms since about a week or two ago and Simpson says that's quite normal. I'm a little nauseated but not really._

_"I really caution you not to get excited on this, Henry. I have a history of losing children halfway through the carrying process and though there appears to be nothing wrong with me, the odds are that I will miscarry this one as well as my other two. I do not get my hopes up that this one will be any different. You might call it cruel, but I call it being realistic. I do have hope that Simpson can diagnose what is wrong with my reproductive system and perhaps prevent a miscarriage in the future. He's agreed not to tell anyone about this and I must ask you to do the same. I had considered withholding this information from you but I know you have a right to know._

_"Simpson and I have agreed on testing me everyday to try to be proactive and preempt any sign of miscarrying to try to figure out what is wrong. I want the child to survive Henry, and you've had enough misery to last you two lifetimes. I would like to have a family with you._

_"Much love, Lara."_

"There." she sealed it and ran it down to the mailroom.

"Well then, that's progress." a new day dawned fresh and sunny even if it was mid-January. Simpson was watching Murdoch ambulating around the recovery ward closely and admiring how the officer was doing so well. The doctor and officer gossiped to each other and Murdoch changed his pajamas without a problem. "I'm happy for you, Will. You don't seem to have suffered much from that accident."

Murdoch sat down on the bed and looked over at Simpson. "I keep having odd dreams, John."

"Of what sort?" the doctor frowned and picked up Murdoch's chart notes.

"Well, they're like random explosions and people telling me things but I can't understand them."

"I'm not good on dream interpreting Will, but maybe it's the accident coming back to you."

"Well, maybe."

"You can keep a dream diary," Simpson suggested. "write down your dreams then Lara or I will help you with it."

"That sounds like an idea," Murdoch's wound gave off an unpleasant throb of mild pain. "my head's starting to bother me now."

"I'll give you some Naproxen and you rest. You've heard my diatribe by now." Simpson got up and went to the medical pharmacy. Murdoch chuckled, knowing exactly what Simpson meant.

Murdoch was pleased overall with his progress as was the two doctors. He hadn't seen anyone else yet but knew they were all sick, even Lightoller. Reclining back and shutting his eyes, he remembered hearing anxious muttered voices yesterday and discovered Simpson and Lara were having a conversation behind closed doors. He knew it was serious by the sounds of their voices, but he couldn't hear what the voices were saying exactly. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been a good thing as they both emerged looking very serious and concerned. The senior officer didn't say anything to them, but he was worried a bit as well.

"Will? Here's your meds." Simpson handed them over and Murdoch took them easily.

"Is anything wrong? I heard you and Lara talking last night in the exam room."

"Your hearing is quite acute, Will." Simpson sat on the edge of the bed.

"One of my better traits. Anyway, I was coming back from the lavvy when I heard you two. I couldn't make out the words but I know something serious is going on."

"Will, Lara's been having some female problems," Simpson told him in a low voice. "this doesn't go beyond you and me, understand? Rostron doesn't need to know nor anyone else. It doesn't interfere with her work."

"Oh." Murdoch shut his mouth. "I understand. It's not my place to know any more than this."

"Good. Now then, rest up and we'll give you a test run on the bridge."

"Yes sir."

"All right Harold, I want you in your cabin for the rest of the day. Tomorrow you'll be taking the evening shift for a few hours," Lara informed Lowe, who nearly bounced up from his bed and gave her a beaming smile. "stay on bed and read some books or something. Write letters."

"Yes ma'am! Anything to get out of here!" he winked at her and left. A good night's sleep was all Lowe really needed. He had woken up with his fever gone and he was breaking a sweat, making him feel dirty. Lara had given him a once over and discharged him from her service, mainly telling him to go clean up. She smiled and shook her head, watching Lowe leave with a big stupid grin on his face.

"Hi, Lara," Boxhall said weakly as she sat down on his bed near the edge. "how are you?"

"Shhh," the doctor examined him quietly, frowing when she saw he still had a fever of 101. "you're getting closer. Sleep."

"I have no energy to do anything else." he joked feebly, closing his eyes. Lara gave him a compress on his forehead and he sighed in contentment. Rostron was sitting up in his bed, inwardly admiring her bedside manner. He watched as she went over to Moody and checked him over.

"How is he?"

"Much better," his fever had gone down considerably and was now on the verge of breaking like Boxhall's. "glad I removed his tonsils last night. Charles gave me a wakeup call there."

"I heard." Rostron had been awakened last night by Lightoller's friendly voice and half listened to what had been going on. Moody still looked comatose but Lara got up and gave him a cold compress on his forehead, giving one hand a pat in a friendly manner. The flush in the officer's cheeks was less pronounced, the dark spots under his eyes were beginning to disappear, and he seemed more rested.

"He seems to be breathing more easily as well." Lara checked his lungs with her stethoscope.

"A good sign all around I would say," Rostron remarked as she came over to him and checked him over. "verdict?"

"Same as Lowe. Go to your rooms and don't come out until tomorrow. I'll be up to check on you tonight."

"Almost forgot-how is Will doing?"

"Quite well, sir," Lara folded up her stethoscope and put it away. "Simpson says he's ready for a half shift today. He gets to go back to his quarters as well."

"Very good! Charles here?" Rostron pulled himself up and began to wrap his blue robe around him. Lightoller was still supine, eyes closed with a flush of the fever very evident in his cheeks.

"Stable. Simpson and I are taking him back to his quarters soon. It'll be better for him." she pulled up the blankets around her friend.

"Well then, I leave you to your work," Rostron hugged her proudly. "I knew I wasn't in any danger with you two around!"

"Oh, sir!" Lara turned red as she smiled. "Your flu bug was pretty mild as far as they can go." Rostron just smiled, saluted her, and left.

By midday, Moody's fever had broken and he was resting comfortably in his own cabin. Lara gave him lozenges to help quell the sore throat he had, then left him to his volumes of books. Boxhall followed Moody's example that very night as well. Simpson and Lara put Lightoller back in his own cabin, loaded him up on quinine and other antibiotics, and Simpson agreed to look after him for a few hours while Lara went to supper.

"Meet me back at the exam room." Simpson told her as she left.

All the officers and the captain were extremely hungry after their fevers broke and they ripped into their allotments for supper like they were rabid animals. Lara laughed and watched the stewards cleaning up the trays from each room. Lightoller wasn't awake long enough and he would have refused sustenance anyway, so Simpson was keeping him hydrated on an IV line until his fever broke. Lara ate by herself and went down to the exam room as she had promised. Simpson wasn't there yet, so she turned on the ultrasound machine and let it warm up, taking the bottle of gel and putting it in her hands to warm it up some.

"Already here, I see." Simpson came in and locked the doors. Lara exposed her pelvic region again, Simpson dosed her with gel, then began to take scans of the infant-in-progess as Lara liked to call it.

"How old is it do you think?"

"Conception was on November what, 27th? I have a calculator for that." Lara pulled out her phone and keyed it in. "It could arrive by August 19th, it'll start moving in late March, etc."

"Nice little tool you have there for the job."

"It's not a guarantee so we can call this baseline," Lara explained. "assuming that little sucker survives."

"I see no abnormalities," Simpson pressed down hard on her pelvis, making her wince. "today's what, the 20th?"

"The 21st."

"Your baby's 10 weeks in there."

"Still no sign of any gut distension."

"Au contraire. Look." there was a very small, almost unnoticeable bump the size of a grapefruit in her pelvis now.

"Nobody'll notice."

"I hope not. No awkward questions."

"Right." Simpson finished up and Lara climbed down off the table. He took some blood from her and sent her up to check on Lightoller before it was time to go to bed.

Lightoller was restless in his bed as Lara arrived, tossing and turning. She set her bag down and sat on the edge of the bed where he reacted to her presesnce, grabbing her wrist and saying something unintelligible.

"Charles, I've got to put you down," he had grabbed her in a tight hug. "you're not well enough to be sitting up."

His reply was muttered and muffled so she couldn't understand him at all. "Fine." she lowered him down gently and positioned herself behind him so that his torso was in her lap. He clutched at her again, nearly cramping up one of her arms but she didn't restrain him. Wrapping her arms around him, she put her left cheek on top of his head, trying to comfort him in his delirium. Lightoller responded to this and gradually grew less agitated.

"Come on Charles, you're my best friend here." she muttered as he put one of his ears over her heart, enjoying the comforting she was offering him. "You can get well."

Rostron came down at 9 the next morning to check up on his sick officer accompanied by Murdoch. The chief officer had gone through his trial shift without any problems so Simpson had reinstated him back on regular watch rotation. Both men stared at the tableau, little smiles breaking out on their faces.

Lara was lying with Lightoller, he was curled up to her like a child seeking comfort from his mother. His head was on her left breast like he was trying to listen to her heart and her arms were around him. Murdoch ventured forward and touched Lightoller's hand, which was cool to the touch and shiny with sweat. "She did it, sir." he said very quietly to his superior.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Murdoch," they left the room, shutting the door with a soft click. "had you ever any doubt?"


	7. Chapter 7

JOURNAL ENTRIES/POVs

Rostron

Docked in Southampton, the ship had to be fumigated in the first class reception room. The navy had requisitioned the merchant marine fleets and requested me to captain this ship, as being an RNR does tend to give me a bit of a lead amongst other captains, and now we-the admirality really, seemed to be deadlocked and undecided on what or where to send us now. Bureaucracy! If I should ever come to power, I would do away with all the deadlocks and stalemates, etc. They're unproductive! Now there was a meeting with Admiral Gregory and notorious Admiral Fleetwood in 1 day to discuss what the next course of action would be in this heinous war.

Resuming my pacing in my cabin, that infernal cat purring around my ankles, I fed the animal and resumed my pacing. The officers and I had bounced back from our bouts of the flu and just a few days ago, Lightoller had been returned to full duty. His bout with malaria had been a severe one, resulting in two attacks of fever before Lara and John both drugged Lightoller so much it bordered on drug abuse. Desperate times, I must remember that.

It paid off, however. Charles is well again and the medical dictators have kept him under house arrest for the past week and a half to be sure no more attacks of fever would befall him. Lightoller is a tough character and it takes a lot to bring him down. If I'm honest, I was handed Lightoller's service record with the White Star Line and asked to review a stint on the _Medic_ when he first joined the line. I thought it was a performance review but instead read a transcription of Lightoller's Fort Dennison incident, which consisted of firing a cannon and hoisting up a Boer flag at the fort. It didn't occur to me that Lightoller wouldn't have been capable of dreaming up such a prank with his friends and thankfully he's matured since then!

Then there was Murdoch. He was recuperating well after his head injury and could handle full watch rotations now. It seems amazing that he could ever have been hurt at all when you look at him. He has the Scottish perseverance which is typical of the Scots and though he is quiet, I have seen him roaring with laughter when Lightoller tells him jokes. He doesn't like ribald humor as I gather his upbringing was strict, but Lightoller is trying to break that wall down. I am very fortunate to have those two on my duty roster as officers, as they work very well together and individually.

Lowe was a more reserved character but over time, he seems to have loosened up some more. He didn't like Lara initially, thought her too loud and rambunctious, thought she wasn't enough like a lady for his taste, but she grew on him. He's loosened up on his sense of humor and laughs readily, though he still prefers some solitude when he could get it. I mean, we all do. Just having a few hours to oneself can make all the difference in the world. Lowe is sharp as they come and his skills are a great help on this ship. He's quite personable, seems to mix well with the soldiers, injured, sick or otherwise when we transport them. I have observed him and his bedside manner a few times and he knew how to establish a rapport with several of the men. It's a talent of his, as he seems to latch onto the severe cases, giving the poor chap a shoulder to lean on, and they get well. Remarkable.

Also Boxhall has been noted to go down and lend an ear to the soldiers when he has the time to. He does as well as Lowe, though he does tend to gravitate towards the soldiers that shrink back a bit or are shy. He manages to get some of the more recalcitrant patients to take their medicines and more often than not they will. While Lowe encourages the soldiers, drawing them out and getting them to laugh, Boxhall's manner is the exact opposite. He will sit and listen quietly and offer insights until the patient or soldier is comfortable with him, then some well mannered jokes come out.

Moody likes to be athletic and he's an extroverted young man, much like Lightoller. Moody and Lara like to go into the gym and be noisy together, as often times I've passed by midmorning and seen the two playing on the contraptions inside. It seems like they're always laughing which is great. It seems all my officers are real bookworms and my medical staff as well. Whenever it's been quiet, I've seen them all with noses stuck in books. It's a great way to spend free time and it broadens the mind.

Then there was Lara. She's a bright pistol of a young lady, knows her stuff as a surgeon, and gets along well with everyone. Her bedside manner isn't great, as she prefers the scared straight method of doing things if a patient is resistant to her methods. She's loud and funny, gets things done, but often times too abrasive and brash. I still wouldn't change any of my staff for the world, though. Her brashness has quelled many soldiers who had rather inflated opinions of themselves. Some have insisted on a male doctor where Simpson comes in, though Lara does not like losing patients just because she is a woman.

A few times I have been called in by a wounded soldier who wanted Simpson to treat him instead of Lara. I had to point out once that Simpson was busy in the surgery and that Dr. Sheridan would make a fine doctor to treat him, he insisted on having a male treat him. So being that I was the only male in the room, I rolled up my sleeves and told the bloke I was the male but I didn't have the faintest idea of how to treat him, so I could operate on him and probe until I found something wrong.

The young lad's face! He blushed red and looked at Lara with a nod that said she would do. Lara gave me a bright smile and began to treat him in the triage unit.

Simpson is a good match for her as a comrade and friend. He has been mentoring her and helping her refine her technique for a long time now, and is quite happy to have her by his side. He has told me more than once that Lara had a natural dexterity and could manage smaller implements than he could.

I see what he meant. Lara has thin and slender digits, very ladylike and often imbued with loud colors like pink. She has had to keep her hands in her pockets if she's wearing glittery polish and the sun's out-the glare got pretty bad once.

Speaking of Lara, I wonder what is going on with her lately. She seems reluctant to come into my cabin and has daily exams with Simpson. Murdoch told me that when I talked with him at supper last night.

"Something's up with her. I think she's sick or something." he said, the Scottish brogue seemingly coming from all 4 corners of the room at once. Funny how an accent can be so overpowering.

"What makes you say that, Will?"

"I've seen her in the exam room once a day, always in the morning. It's usually around 9 a.m. or so," Murdoch handed over his plate to the steward. "I did ask. Simpson told me that they were watching her for signs of disease. I don't know any more than that, sir."

"Hmmm," I decided that tomorrow morning I would be down in the exam room area when she came in. I could ask, but I would get the same answer Murdoch had. "I thank you for telling me this, Will. Have a good night."

"Aye sir. You too." he went on watch and I went to my rooms to ruminate over this interesting development.

An early riser, I got up at 7 a.m., took breakfast like usual, then dressed for the day. I fed Abdul and kept him happy by several minutes of stroking until the time turned to ten of 9. The cat was offended that I would get up and leave the room, but that was his way. He'd hop up on the windowsill and doze for the day until I came back.

As Murdoch had said, Lara met Simpson in the exam room and before they could do whatever, I knocked on the door.

"It's the captain." I said commandingly and they opened up the door. Lara was lying on a table and she was pulling her shirt down upon my arrival. Next to her on a trolley, was a square device with some rectangular ones.

"Can we help you, sir?"

"You most certainly can, John. I want to know why you're giving Lara daily exams. Will told me last night."

"Should have asked him not to!" Lara groaned as she sat up. "Sir, it's just a precursory exam to help me avoid a disease."

"What disease would this be?" I shut the door behind me and went over to Lara's side. She glanced at Simpson who nodded, silently telling her it was her responsibility to tell me whatever she was comfortable with. Our young physician heaved a sigh and shook her head like she was fighting a battle with her mind. "Don't tell me anything you're not comfortable with."

She seemed to relax with that, putting her hand on top of mine for a moment or so. "Remember when I told you about my miscarriages? John and I are trying out a new treatment option to see if we can find out what's wrong down there." she colored pink for a few moments then it disappeared as I nodded. Something told me that this was not all of what she was talking about. Lara could look me in the eyes but I read into their depths and knew she was not mentioning something else. For some reason, I got the impression it was a big secret and could possibly destroy her. She had the option of telling me this and really didn't, but it wouldn't do any good to pressure her for an explanation. The surest way to drive someone away from you is try to extract a confession under stress. It wasn't even a confession and she would resent me afterwards I knew.

All in all, best keep my distance from whatever she was up to with Simpson. "I hope it's nothing serious, Lara. I will see you both later." both looked relieved that I was choosing not to pursue the subject anymore and left the exam room without a qualm. I heard the two talking but tuned them out, respectful of their privacy as I went to my rooms, finishing up a report for the quarantine we were under recently and getting it ready to be read by Admiral Gregory, my superior. His last letter to me expressed concern for our condition as a ship and as people stricken with the flu or otherwise. It warmed me to read it, the genuine sympathy of the man was tremendous, much unlike the other admirals who seemed to regard ships as disposable and indeed the men that sailed on them in any capacity.

Folding up the report and putting it in an envelope, I wrote Admiral Gregory on the front and put it with the other correspondence. It was lunchtime when I was done with all my paperwork (not to mention transcribing Lightoller's notes from when I was ill), and went down to the officer's mess.

Surprisingly, the only one there was Lara. She was drinking coffee and looking preoccupied when I entered, glanced up and gave me a weak smile, but I knew something was up.

"Not hungry, Lara?" I was ravenous as usual.

"No, sir. I seem to be falling ill a little bit because of the treatment." she murmured.

"I'm sorry." what else could I say to her?

"I wanted to go down this path, sir. Side effects happen so I have to deal with it."

"It will eventually ebb away?"

"Yes sir. We've got some drugs which will help, but I will need shall we say a considerable amount of sack time." I understood that to mean rest and nodded.

"I have a meeting with the admirality tomorrow so we'll get orders." I warned her. Lara gave me another faint smile.

"I'm more comfortable here, sir. All the supplies to treat me are here as well."

"Yes and nobody knows your condition more than John." I tried to reassure her. "You look pale so you might be getting a jump start on your rest?"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea." she stood up. "Feel free to come and visit whenever you like."

"I will. Feel better soon, Lara." another half smile and she left.

At supper that night, I announced to the officers that Lara was ill and we were not to disturb her. Moody, Boxhall and Lowe all looked a bit grieved, but it was Murdoch and Lightoller who looked a bit alarmed. Those two were the closest to her and I knew they would fuss over her which might make her mad when she was ill, but the others would help keep them under control. Simpson in particular would be protective and strict with her care.

"What's wrong with her?" I looked over to Simpson to explain.

"She has what you might call female problems." he very reluctantly said.

"Will she be all right?" Lightoller looked pensive.

"Yes of course she will be. She's on a new medication and it makes her tired more easily. It'll only be for the next week or two and she'll be back to normal."

It was all mutually understood. The men did not want to question Simpson further, as they would inevitably turn red in the face if they wanted to know any more and it wasn't really a man's job to know what is going on with a woman! Satisfied with Simpson's explanation and his vagarities, the officers all filed away the information in their heads until Boxhall spoke up.

"What is she doing now?"

"Lara? She should be sleeping."

"Good. She will need a lot of rest. Do not wake her up unless you really need to." Simpson cautioned. "You'll face her wrath if you do and I can't help you there." I had to smirk. I'd never seen Lara when she was angry and I had been told by Simpson that it was a sight to see. He'd told me the tropical storms we'd occasionally see were nothing compared to her wrath!

The meeting adjourned, I watched them all depart and head off for watch and bed. Abdul came up to me and whined to be fed so I did that. My meeting with the admirality was tomorrow and before bed I had to get my dress uniform ready. It was hanging up in the closet, protected by brown packing paper from dust and moths. I didn't like wearing it much, as it was more for show and not very practical for everyday wear. The gold braid was a bit itchy and I didn't care for that. As long as I pulled my shirt collar over the coat braid I would be fine.

The next day dawned gray and drizzly which fitted my mood almost perfectly. The admirality usually made vague and badly thought out plans of action and we captains were to carry them out no matter what. Often times I could not understand what one dispatch was saying, but I always did my best and somehow they all managed to come out right in the end. Admiral Gregory was a saint to put up with these men and I knew he knew exactly what I thought of all the formality.

Still, leaving Murdoch in charge of the ship, I got into the admiral's barge and was ferried on shore with time to spare. The admirality offices were all in one big Greek revival style building, very imposing and very out of place in Southampton. Most of the houses and businesses were in saltbox style, Tudor style, or even second empire design. The marble Corinthian columns and architraves were very out of place in a town like this and I often thought that if the admirality wanted announce their presence to a town, this would be it! Since I had been there last they had added two big topiaries on each side of the doorway, all cut to fit in perfect squares.

It was showy but not genuine. That sentiment was universally echoed by my fellow captains. Only a few of the admirals were decent men.

I was duly shown by an irritated looking reception man into a waiting room and I waited there for almost an hour before Gregory could admit me. His office was very modest, polished hardwood floors and not a hint of stone anywhere. He was sitting at his desk with another admiral as I took my seat and I tried hard not to grimance at the sight of him.

Admiral John Charles Fleetwood. He had been the scourge of the ships in his day, almost equivocal to the way Bully Waters used to run his ships, as Lightoller had told me often. He was noted for badgering, bullying, taunting, you name it. Fleetwood ruled with his tongue and at least 3 ships had broken out in mutiny against him. He became admiral because of the way he'd handled the mutinies if you can believe that! Whippings, the worst of which had left severe scars on a poor sod. Several of his lieutenants had deserted under him and he was almost openly smug about it.

Nobody rose against him outright and nobody could now as he was in power. He could send them to war with a simple pen and paper. Fleetwood was about 55 years old, decrepit, fat with a potbelly and bald. He looked older than his years because he had a habit of drinking off duty and frequently appearing hungover at meetings and such. His hair he once had was dark brown and his eyes were hazel. Now they were small in a network of wrinkles and flabby skin and seemed to glare at you even through a solid wall. Some said he had venom for blood and when you looked into his puffy face and saw those tiny eyes and snub nose, you believed it.

"Captain Rostron," Gregory shook my hand with a broad smile. "I hope I find you well after your bout with the flu?"

"Thriving sir, I thank you." I took the seat he gestured me to, thankfully away from Fleetwood.

"I'm glad to hear it. You have a remarkable medical staff. I've heard nothing but good stories from the wounded who have come home." Gregory joined me at the table, his merry eyes infusing me with warmth. He had blonde curly hair and good humored brown eyes. Even though he was the same age as Fleetwood, he radiated good humor and the sea life had agreed with him. Many a man I had worked with had good stories of Gregory, running his ships with a good heart and he always had a kind word for his subordinates. It intrigued me on how two such polar opposites could have ever been sitting at that table with me.

"I hope they're all well and coping with that they're been through."

"Very much so."

"For God's sake!" Fleetwood sputtered, his raspy voice low in his throat. "We're wasting time here!"

I bit back a retort that my time had already been wasted in the waiting room. Gregory seemed to know that already and he gave me a slight nod in apology. Was the man psychic or just a very well educated people-reader? It didn't matter though.

"Now Captain Rostron, we summoned you here because of a big landing at Gallipoli scheduled in several days," Gregory handed me an official dispatch. "you will be carrying about five hundred soldiers on your ship, and you are required to stay there for the next 24 hours to recover any injured parties."

"Will the leaders of the troops be sailing with me, sir?"

"No, that's been left to the _Olympic_," Fleetwood grumbled. "the other thing is, we need you to send two of your officers ashore to intercept a German spy and bring him aboard your ship."

Astonished, I looked at Gregory who nodded and handed me a copy of that dispatch. "Wildorf Haskell, 34, wanted for treason by the chancellor of Germany. He has secrets about the parliament and the army of Germany that could prove very valuable to our end of the war."

"Sir, my officers cannot leave the ship, they are not army trained intelligence-"

"You will do as we order!" Fleetwood met my eyes for the first time, the depths of which had anger and hate etched all over them. "Use your men to bring him ashore or suffer the consequences!"

"Yes sir." what else could I say? Frustration was building up and Gregory knew it.

"I would like a private word, Captain Rostron." he seized my arm and we walked out onto the side garden. Fleetwood merely grumbled to himself and began drinking port, though it wasn't even noon yet.

"I don't like that man Arthur, you know that as well," Gregory commented as we walked on the flagstones. "you still look a little pale from your illness."

I gave him a halfhearted smile. "Please don't worry on my account, sir. Dr. Sheridan and Dr. Simpson would not have let me come here if I was ill."

"I am glad to hear that. I know this is a fool's errand and you should not have to use your own two officers to seek out Haskell. The truth is we're hard up for young men willing to fight and this Haskell man does not sit well with me."

"How so, sir?"

"He was caught talking about how much he hated the German chancellor in a drunken stupor almost a week ago. The guards threw him out and Germany does not miss him. What they didn't know was that Haskell had been in a number of important positions over the years. He worked in the military zone, helped to get supplies, knows where they are getting their weapons from overseas, etc."

"So he can tell us where to cut off Germany's arms supply."

"Correct, Captain. With that kind of power over Germany, I hope they will fold and surrender." we walked back to the entrance.

"Isn't Germany aware of Haskell's infidelity to them?"

Gregory paused. "It is unclear how much they know of it. We have cryptographers deciphering codes but none of it has advanced to the stage of breaking it down within minutes."

I sighed. At least part of the mission was almost guaranteed a fool's errand. "This man was excommunicated because of one night's drunkenness. Who's to say that he isn't leading us into a trap?"

"I don't know, Arthur. I wouldn't do this at all but Fleetwood is very insistent. He wants to get the army off of our backs."

My face darkened as I heard a rumble of thunder in the sky. Gregory peered up and wrapped his cloak around himself. "I don't like this any more than you do, Arthur, but we must cling to hope that it will work."

Both of us knew it was a slim chance of working but neither of us needed to say it. "Then good day to you, sir."

"Good day, Captain Rostron. At 9 a.m. tomorrow the troops will begin boarding your vessel. I pray to God for you and your crew's safety." that man was a godsend! Even being able to commiserate with him privately and share our apprehensions worked to calm me some as I folded the documents up and tucked them into my overcoat pocket.

Back on board the ship, I called a meeting with the officers and explained to them our situation. It would take a day to board all the troops and that evening, we were to set out for Turkey.

"Haskell?" Murdoch inquired. "I've heard of him. He's a drunken sot who kept getting bounced around from department to department under the chancellor-"

"We know, thank you, Mr. Murdoch." I had to cut him off before he began to go on a rant like he sometimes does. "It is the admirality's belief that this man could tell us many of the German government's secrets so we can cut off their arms supplies and force them into submission." the German arms, besides being domestically made which could not meet demand, were a highly protected military secret. If Haskell did work in the upper tiers of the army, he would know where the consignments were coming from.

"I need two of you to go ashore and meet the man. The admirality's excuse is that their troops are tied up in storming the beach at Gallipoli." damn that Fleetwood, damn him!

Everyone's faces drained of color and they all looked at someone else. "I'll make it simple. Lightoller and Murdoch cannot go," I announced. "I need both of you to make sure the ship keeps running smoothly. As we're to wait for the wounded, the other officers will not have much to do."

Still nobody said anything. I had to prompt them again. "Mr. Lowe and Mr. Boxhall, you two are going. Mr. Moody is staying behind because I do not think he is up to the rigors of what you're about to do. Nothing against you Mr. Moody, but you still look sick to me."

Moody looked like he'd been insulted and complimented. I found it amusing to see which emotion would take control of his face! He thanked me and along with Murdoch and Lightoller, exited the room.

"Now lads, it's time for you two to start planning." I handed over the name and description of Haskell and sent them on their way.

LARA POV

Ever since Simpson gave me the very unexpected news I was "up the duff" as the British would say, I had been apprehensive each day since then, wondering if it was the inevitable day when I would miscarry. I mean, my past history was against me, nobody knew what was wrong with me down there, but I felt like we were on the right path to finding out why. There was no biological reason why I shouldn't have kids. There was no history of it in my mom's or dad's side of the family as well. I felt like I was being singled out quite unfairly for the powers that be to laugh at.

We were to make way for Turkey and I was glad of the trip over, hoping it would be quiet and uneventful-then I found out we were transporting troops. Simpson had told me somewhat apologetically about it last night as soon as the captain got back from his meeting and inwardly, I did expect something like this. Rostron's face was like a storm cloud as he came in. Lightoller later told me that Rostron had to see Admiral Gregory and an Admiral Fleetwood. I understood nothing about this at all and it was up to Lights to fill me in on the latter man.

It seemed that the Fleetwood character was a real bully of a man, mutinied against, several officers deserted, a hardcore drinker who was an arrogant little jackass. I'd never come up against that type of person really, as I seemed to attract all the men who violence is second nature to.

Oh well. There was no point on dwelling on that. It was all in the past.

A few nights ago, Rostron surprised us when Simpson was about to give me my physical exam. I had to pull my shirt down as Simpson hastily turned off the monitor. Rostron would not have been able to understand the images onscreen anyway but we weren't taking any chances. He was inquisitive and would have asked questions we would not have been able to answer. Now I think back on it, I think that Rostron knows something's amiss with me that I wasn't telling. He seemed to have a look which told me he knew I was hiding something. I guess after being a captain you do develop a look like that which can be very unnerving.

At any rate, all was progressing with me. I didn't have any outward sign of my shape, I was tired a lot, but nothing else really. A slight twinge of nausea here and there but nothing to take medicine for. Simpson explained away my fatigue as part of the treatment course which everyone understood. They all knew I had female issues and nobody was going to be enlightened any more than that!

That night, Simpson filled me in on us ferrying troops over to Gallipoli and the covert operation we were to undertake. It seemed that Lowe and Boxhall had to go ashore and pick up a rogue German by the name of Haskell, who had apparent military secrets the British government could exploit and force Germany into submission. Simpson wasn't fond of the idea and by the look of it, nor was Rostron. So that was why he was looking so irritated when he reboarded the ship.

"Any response from Henry?" Simpson asked as he put the probe on me and checked the image.

I sighed as that mocking image of a child flitted into view, performing all sorts of acrobatics I could not feel. "No, not yet. I really regret telling him now, John, as it'll be over soon and he'll be heartbroken."

"You never know. I'm more worried about our boys going ashore next week."

"Me as well. I hope it all works out for them. I mean, the marines or the army could do that. Navy officers are ill adapted for that sort of thing."

"Me too. Harold and Joe know what they're going into and they're smart blokes."

"I didn't say that they weren't. I mean that they might be betrayed and kidnapped, that sort of thing."

"If they did, the admirality would be forced to admit they made the wrong choice," Simpson smirked as he finished up. "but knowing them, they would deny all knowledge. Trying to save face, that sort of thing."

"Sounds too much like any government body," I sneered. "politics."

"Very true. That's done," Simpson handed me a towel and I wiped off the guck smeared on my gut. "you're textbook right now."

I barely acknowledged that statement as I cleaned up and slid off the exam table. Textbook meant good but that was what I had been told the other two times before I miscarried. I threw the towel into the laundry rack and went into my room so I could get an early night. Things were quiet now but they wouldn't be very soon. I had been told the troops would embark tomorrow morning bright and early and I had to be present to receive their names and whatnot.

In my room, I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my denim jacket, swearing a bit as the cold met the heat coming from my space heater on the floor. Shutting the door solved this and I hung up the jacket so it would dry out. My jeans were removed, I took off my long sleeved shirt, then got ready for bed. The bed was calling me after a long day. I had been hell bent on getting exercise, as I hated the thought of getting fat as much as I hated the notion that I would miscarry again. It was vain of me to worry about my figure, but all women did that at one point or another.

The warm bed was beguiling to my cold body and I sank into it gratefully, pulling up a fleece blanket. The warmth invaded my body like the troops would soon do in Gallipoli and I fell blissfully asleep.

I was up bright and early the next morning, having gotten a full 8 hours of sleep. It was blustery cold and snowy that day so I pulled on some long underwear to help combat against the cold, my black pants and snow boots, then my full uniform shirt and peacoat. My greatcoat went on as did my hat, then I pulled on black leather gloves, admiring them inwardly. Lights had given them to me when we came aboard after Christmas and they were really quality hand stitched material and my fingers never went cold when I wore them.

Standing around shivering with a clipboard in hand wasn't my idea of a good time, but Simpson and I had to take attendance as the troops boarded. All the officers of the troops were on a different ship which made no sense at all. The officers had to be in charge and responsible for their troops all the time so why go on board a different vessel? Idiots! At the same time, I was glad of it, as that meant Rostron didn't need to get his feathers ruffled by the stuck up generals and colonels lording it over other people.

"Begin boarding!" was the cry as I came out on deck next to Simpson. About 500 men all came over the gangplank and filed in.

"By the way, Lara," Simpson told me as I wrote down a name. "The captain ordered a few hundred to go over a different way where Lowe, Boxhall and Moody will be taking their names."

Bless that man! I wasn't looking forward to freezing my keister off for hours. "He's psychic do you think?"

"Just a man with more common sense than those in power." we sniggered and kept on writing names down.

When they were all settled in, we made sure that they were comfortable enough, told them the stewards would be happy to attend to their needs, and went into the safety of the surgery. A few were there with complaints, the mildest was a cold. Some others tried to get out of doing their duty by feigning illness, which Simpson and I quickly recognized.

"OK then, that means you'll need to be lashed down," I merrily invented to one bloke who said he had a bad knee or something to that effect. "I'll call the nurse."

"Lashed down? Why?"

"Because you've got a bad knee and what we do for that here is make little cuts in your knee and get some good old bloodsucking leeches to drain the bad stuff in your leg so you can walk again. Problem is the treatment's not foolproof, so you'll need to be lashed down for 48 hours to have any effect." Simpson winked at me as he was talking to another maligner across the way. He had taken my cue and was inventing a wild treatment which consisted of smearing the lad in castor oil and having him jump into the swimming pool, then the lad apparently had to be hung upside down for 4 hours from the main mast.

Needless to say, the maligners went back to their rooms. At supper that night with the captain and the officers, Simpson and I regaled them with tales of our phony made up treatments and the astounding effects it produced. Everyone was laughing hard by the end when Simpson reported one especially ludicrous bit of treatment for a sore throat: stand in a cask of water in the full moon for 6 hours, drink as much tea as he could stand, and to chop down an old hickory tree. Silly but effective.

"But how would that treat a sore throat?" Boxhall cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, I told him he'd have to eat the bark off the hickory tree until his throat improved." Simpson said with a smile. "The lad told me I was a witch doctor and declared he would hold off until he got home again to get looked at."

Rostron chortled and I had the distinct impression he was watching me throughout the supper. Does that man have a sixth sense or what? I knew he was fond of me but what was he thinking at that moment?

It didn't matter. Supper was over and soon we were all tucked up in bed.

For the week's journey over to Turkey, many of the soldiers enjoyed the warm Mediterranean sun and quite a few were out on decks catching up some of the sun's rays. Simpson lectured them on no more than an hour of sunbathing or else they would burn. A lot of them got sunburned regardless and we were constantly making up new batches of the sunburn salve we kept on hand.

Lowe and Boxhall had been working on a plan for when they would meet up with Haskell. Nobody knew of the plan, but word reached me that the two had written it out and forwarded it to Rostron who kept it in a file. It had been their job to think of every what if and lay out a plan for it. They had planned for success and failure, though the particulars were not and could not be shared with the rest of us. Both the officers looked stoic on the outside and they had kept their poker faces on when they worked, but I knew they were worried.

One of the soldiers we were transporting was an informal gunnery officer and he gave Lowe and Boxhall lessons on guns of every kind we had on board, which was mainly the ones the soldiers themselves had. Being a hospital ship, we had no arms whatsoever. Our officers gained some confidence and skill with the guns which helped to alleviate some of their worries, not all.

Lights and Murdoch paced around nervously when they were on watch that week and though I tried to sympathize with them, they would not be reassured. Poor guys, and even Rostron, Captain Cool himself, was showing signs of the strain with the immense responsibility handed to him in this misison. Simpson convinced me that the guy was under enough stress and to try to talk to him right now would be a kamikaze mission. I reluctantly agreed and confined myself to the surgery that week.

The night before disembarkation, the surgery was silent. I had my usual exam, was reassured it was "textbook", then I sat down at my desk facing Simpson's. He and I worked in silence for a few minutes, then he chose to speak up. "You know Rostron is worried about you?"

"What?" I looked up from my notes on hydrocephalus. It wasn't likely we'd encounter anyone with that, but I needed to be prepared.

"He doesn't say anything, but I've seen him near your door when you've been asleep and I know he's wondering what's wrong with you."

"He knows I have a female problem and the treatment is making me tired," I said bluntly as I turned a page. "there's nothing more to it."

"You know he thinks there is. Rostron isn't a person who can be lied to easily. We can't lie to the captain, Lara."

"It's only lying if it affects my work. It doesn't, therefore he doesn't need to know."

"Lara, you really need to consider the very real what ifs in your situation. What if you start to miscarry while doing an operation?"

"Then you ask one of the nurses to help me the best they can," my head was starting to hurt. "they're smart and they can do it."

"But they talk," he pressed on. "they'll find out what's wrong with you and gossip about it. You think Rostron wants to know by a result of shipboard gossip?"

There was no good way to answer that question. I toyed with the idea of writing a note, in case I was unable to mention it, but dismissed that idea. "He won't find out." I said and by the firm note of my voice, he could tell the subject was closed. Irritated and with a headache throbbing, I went up on the boat deck to drink in some cool Mediterranean air before I turned in for the night.

Lo and behold, Rostron was there as well, studying the skyline. "Hello, Lara." he acknowledged me in his usual friendliness.

"Hello, sir. How are you today?"

"Not bad, but not particularly good either."

"Sir?" he fiddled with his cuffs and cast me a sideways glance, making me think he was stalling.

"I have an uneasy feeling that this mission is doomed from the start. We've been sent on a fool's errand." Rostron confided in me in a quiet tone of voice. "This whole thing is going to end badly."

"Was it because of Fleetwood, sir?"

"How do you know about him? Gregory tell you?"

"Lightoller told me, sir."

"He would!" Rostron chortled. "He's met Fleetwood's equal, that Bully Waters chap."

"Am I to guess that this Fleetwood was or is a drunken oaf and that the admirality doesn't know what to do with him?" the Mediterranean air was so warm! If I could have put a price tag on it as a doctor then I certainly would have.

"Just about. The man seems to love mutiny as he invites it on every ship he's on."

My mind went into psychologist mode automatically. "Do you know what happened to him, sir?"

"What?"

"Well, what made him so odious that he invited mutiny aboard his ships? Why would a person go so badly if they were once really nice?" I reasoned, brushing away a fly. "Did he have a bad experience as an apprentice? Was he influenced by others? Did the so-called pleasures of shore life intrude on his service to the king? Was he forced into a career he didn't want?"

Rostron looked at me with mirth in his eyes. "I didn't figure you were one for psychiatry, Lara."

"Psychology, sir," I corrected him. "it's been a bit of a hobby of mine and it does help with some of the wounded soldiers. Sometimes something mental can slow down a recovery and only by bringing it to light can the patient really recover fully. The mind does funny things."

"I don't know anything about that man except he's an unpleasant sot." we started walking towards the bridge where Murdoch was on duty. "Good evening, Will!"

"Evening Captain, Dr. Sheridan." Murdoch looked so much better now. After the accident he was pale faced for a week or two and could not use big words. He'd lost some considerable weight and muscle but with gentle exercise and a hearty diet again, he'd begun to regain what was lost. I thought it was one of the best recoveries I'd ever seen. The stitches had come out before we came to Southampton from Warsaw and now the only way to see his scar was if you really looked for it.

"Everything will be all set for tomorrow, sir. God willing." Murdoch saluted Rostron and turned his attention back to the bridge.

"Glad to hear it, Mr. Murdoch. Goodnight."

"Goodnight sir, Dr. Sheridan." he gave me a wink and a smile as we responded and left.

So that was it for the night. I tucked myself into bed without delay, but spent several hours trying to sleep.

Up and at 'em bright and early and I was drinking coffee on the bridge where Lightoller was stationed. Lights was quiet, very unlike himself, and quite pensive as well. Boxhall and Lowe were gearing up for their mission, preparing with the soldiers down below. Both of us knew the consequences as they went about their mission and neither of us thought very highly of the admirality at this point. There were a lot of battles already, a lot of senseless killing which would never be justifiable in any culture of language, and yet the higher powers (what an oxymoron!) insisted on sending more young men out to the slaughter. If I had my way there would never be another war, just diplomatic conventions where things would get done. It would save lives and would teach the younger generations ways to solve problems other than bloodbaths and killing. Violence never solved anything.

Lights looked like I felt. He hadn't slept well either and I don't think anyone on board did. Boxhall showed up in camouflage, his newly minted dog tags hanging from the chain around his neck. There was a gun danging from his back, the strap of which he'd slung on his left shoulder so it crossed to his right hip. Lowe followed similarly, both of them in combat boots and other assorted gear which would be needed. It was almost like a masquerade, going in undercover like that and the idea was so ridiculous to me I could have laughed had it been in other circumstances.

"You look good, men!" Lightoller blustered a bit as Rostron came onto the bridge to see them off. The troops were lining up to disembark as the dockside ferries pulled up to begin the men boarding.

"Gentlemen and lady," Rostron saluted us and I didn't need to return it. I was a civilian doctor like Simpson so there was no formality on our parts. "Mr. Lowe, Mr. Boxhall, you have your orders. I have a copy of your plans. Should either of you wish to abandon this mission, speak now and nobody will think any less of you." neither one of them blinked. I think they were excited to have a shore adventure, honestly. My own shore adventure previously hadn't been a load of laughs but exciting in excess.

"Good men," Murdoch and Moody joined us on the bridge. "I release you to go and find your places in the boats. Let the disembarkations begin." they all saluted and the two officers left, giving the orders to disembark the troops. The seamen all obeyed and it got underway.

"Godspeed." I heard Rostron mutter as the first ferry went to the docks. Moody clenched his hands together as he watched the ferries come and go and I knew Rostron was right in not allowing Moody to go on the mission. While he was a good sailor, he was also still quite young and impetuous. He had been known to act rashly on land and however ill fated this mission would be, Moody would lose his head. He wasn't quite stoic and grounded enough to make missions like these and he would be the next time around (god forbid).

"Now we wait." Murdoch said to nobody as the ferries tied up at the docks. The troops were joined by their officers and they were getting instructions on how to storm the beach. One of them was on a horse and I privately cherished the notion that the colonel should be shot off of it for being so stupid as to bring one in the first place. A true leader gets his hands dirty with the men.

Rostron stood beside me solemnly, watching the scene. It occurred to me then that we had what the soldiers did not have-a true leader. I gave him a weak smile of encouragement and let it be.

All that day we were on edge, hoping to see Lowe and Boxhall approaching the ferry and boarding _Titanic_ again. But all that day they were nowhere to be found and the rest of us went about our duties. There wasn't much for us surgeons to do so I camped out in the library after doing some reading in one of the medical journals on board. I did my fair share of pacing and wondered what was going on with Lowe and Boxhall. It should have only taken a few hours for them to get the Haskell person and come back, yet it was bordering on 8 hours now.

We were so preoccupied with our thoughts, nobody showed up for supper and I didn't see anybody else all that evening. The worry was starting to get to me and I felt a sharp abdominal pain. I wondered if I was getting the stress induced flu bug again as I got ready for bed.

WARNING-miscarriage in this part.

ROSTRON POV

The day had been a stressful one for all of us. Everyone was going about their duties like zombies or robots. I in particular paced in my quarters for a good hour before I went to check on Murdoch. He was doing absolutely wonderfully after his head injury yet I suspected for awhile there might be a possibility of a relapse. Murdoch greeted me with some forced cheerfulness and I knew his mind was elsewhere like mine was. We shared a few moments going over points of interest, remarked over the quietness of the bay area, then I went on.

I was so distracted I didn't realize that I had covered two laps of the entire ship. Moody was sound asleep in his room, sawing logs like crazy and so was Lightoller. Amazing. I didn't think they'd be able to sleep at all. I envied them in a way as I kept up my walking.

During the disembarkation I watched Lara for any sign of improvement in her features and there were none at all. If anything she looked somewhat worse. Her eyes had sunken in a little bit and she was a bit paler than normal. The poor woman looked sick enough and she didn't need the stress of two of her friends going on a mission, but I had no control over it. I felt resentful towards her not telling me what was wrong with her, though I obviously wasn't going to say anything to her. She gave me a smile, a pretty fake one if I ever saw it but I didn't blame her. I did not envy the men in their assignment, nor did I ever want to be involved in Gallipoli. From what I gathered from Gregory, the trip was doomed to fail from the start.

I saw waves and scores of young men get slaughtered in the field from my ship with a pair of binoculars in my hands. Not able to bear any more of the incessant slaughter, I had to go back to my quarters and pray that my two officers were not amongst the dead.

Lowe and Boxhall were smart. They knew their fates and had prepared for eventualities or what ifs. I had a copy of each of their advance directives if it came to that, and their wishes if they were captured. Both of them vowed not to betray any of their countrymen and they would not speak even under torture. They resolved to wait out the war if it came to that, which we all hoped it wouldn't.

If I were a gambling man, I would wager on Lowe and Boxhall returning unscathed. But, I would also wager it was Fleetwood who devised this harebrained invasion in the first place. It reeked of him, badly planned and poorly executed. Surely the other side would know we were coming with two great big ocean liners and one a hospital ship to boot! I certainly wouldn't stand around if I was the enemy. The _Olympic_ had left already and I knew then that Fleetwood did not expect many to return. I think it was just a stupid plan to get the army off of the navy.

Blast that man to the deepest depths of hell! This plan would never work and Gregory knew it! I wouldn't be facing an inquiry if the plan failed, but I was sure it was because everyone expected it to fail in the first place! What pull did Fleetwood have on the admirality that would get a plan like this one acted on? Money, most likely. They said the Fleetwood family came from gentry. Money wouldn't buy a victory. Especially when it was very poorly thought out by a moronic man who couldn't even tie his own shoelaces! I stalked onto the bridge where Murdoch was just returning from supper.

"Good evening, sir."

"Hello, Will."

"Clear night."

"Indeed."

"I hope Lowe and Boxhall are all right." I gave a noncommittal grunt, checking with my binoculars the shore line.

"What on earth?" I saw a bright orange flare being waved back and forth. "Flare off the port bow!"

"Is it-"

"I think it is, Will!" it was nearly fully dark out but I saw shadowy figures jump into a shore boat amid patchy gunfire and start pulling for the ship. "Get the ship in as close as you can to them!"

"Aye, sir!" Murdoch gave out orders as I went over to Lara's door. She wanted to be alerted right away when Boxhall and Lowe were sighted and coming back. Halfway there, I was startled by a cry of pain. Her door opened up and she looked out, nearly gray faced in the low light of the running lamps.

"Lara, what is it?" I exclaimed, dashing over to her. She held up a hand which had patchy specks of blood on them. "What hurt you?!"

"I need John!" she wrapped a jacket around her waist and made for the surgery with me following. I saw a few drops of blood where she hurried and wondered how she cut herself on one of her legs. She was usually more careful than that. I wanted to ask questions but she was in too much pain for me to do anything other than to make sure she got to where she was going.

Simpson was sitting in the office at his desk when Lara burst in, groaning in pain. Simpson muttered something I couldn't catch, then Lara nodded. He turned back to me and told me that he needed to examine her privately.

"Of course." I went to the waiting area and listened to muttered exchanges I couldn't discern. Time did pass but with nothing to do, it was much slower than I thought it would be. Finally, Simpson came into the room and without getting too detailed, he told me that Lara had suffered a side effect from the treatment she had been receiving.

"I know that isn't the cause of her problem," I cut in, tired of being lied to. Simpson looked at me, shocked. "my dear John, I know something else is going on here and I want to know what it is! No simple treatment would give her such a problem as bleeding."

"Sir, she vowed me to secrecy."

"You can tell me, John. I need to know what is wrong with her."

"Sir, she needs to tell you and not me. I don't want to be caught in the middle of all this! Her reasons for keeping it secret are her reasons." Simpson was visibly annoyed and I couldn't blame him at all.

"All right, John. When can I talk to her?"

"In a few minutes. I need to get her settled in for observation tonight."

"All right." I folded my arms and waited until Simpson said that it was all clear for me to come in. Lara was lying in a recovery room bed nearest the door and had regained some of her color back. She looked bleary eyed and Simpson told me he'd given her a very mild sedative. I took the seat Simpson had put for me beside her and I sat down, taking her hand in mine. Lara looked at me and I thought her eyes were all teary for a moment, but then again it might have been the drug. It took me a few minutes to adjust to the dimmer lighting in the room but the lighting was kind to Lara, making her paleness almost disappear.

"Sir?" her voice was faint and she squeezed my hand tightly. I was reminded of the time she nursed me and 4 other officers when we were all stricken sick. She had been the strong one then. It was time for me and Simpson to be strong for her.

"Hello, Lara. How are you feeling?"

"Rotten, sir."

"You will get well," I tried to rally her spirits. "I must ask what is your illness? I know you haven't told me anything specific."

"Oh, sir..."

"I do need to know the status of my surgeons' health," I interrupted. "I do not like being lied to and you know it." I started to sound authorative, letting her know that I wasn't going to accept any more prevaricating on her part. When I wanted the truth, I wanted it.

"Captain, I don't want you to know."

"Out with it, now." I commanded, narrowing my eyes at her. Lara's eyes darted everywhere but on me like she could suddenly fly up and escape through one of the stacks on the ship. Nervously she bit her lip and met my eyes.

"I had a miscarriage, sir."

"What?!" I nearly choked. Imagine that on my ship!

"Now you know my dirty secret!" she cried out. "I slept with someone and got up the duff but my body can't handle it! It betrayed me! I knew it was going to happen but I didn't want it to!"

Resentment boiled up in me now. "Why did you think you couldn't come to me with this news?"

"What was the point!" I could see tears coming up but she forced them back with a monumental effort. "I can't bear well wishes when I know it'll turn out like this!"

"Do you think I'd broadcast it all over this ship?" I was almost shouting now. She'd caused me so much worry when she could have just told me outright! I would have understood it all. "Do you?"

"Sir, it's a female problem! I didn't want anyone knowing about that sort of thing." I understood her completely but I had to emphasize the fact that nothing should have escaped my notice. I didn't want to berate her but the truth was the truth. I was insulted that she didn't trust me with such information about herself and she might not have meant to insult me but the point was the point. I had to know what was going on and I needed to know everything that went on in the ship. A captain is not a master of the ship unless he has complete control and knew everything that was going on.

Suddenly I just felt weary. The anxiety of the past week was catching up to me and I heard a cry of "Shoreboat ahoy!" and knew I was missing my men returning.

"Lara, you have disappointed me," I spoke clearly and sternly. "I expected better than that from you! You really didn't trust me with any information about you now did you?" she didn't answer me. "You betrayed my trust by lying about your condition and if it were anybody else who had done that to me, I would have had them severely punished! Suppose I didn't know anything about your condition and I happen upon you like you were, bleeding in the hallway or worse, and Simpson not around, and what would I have done to help you if you suddenly fainted?! You need to be upfront with me from now on! I didn't think I'd have to tell you of all people this!"

Lara looked shocked and I took my leave, giving her a glare. She called out for Simpson and he came to her as I slammed the door shut and walked up to see my two officers embarking the ship.

"Mr. Lowe, Mr. Boxhall, report if you please." I walked them to my cabin.

"It was a disaster, sir," Lowe told me as he peeled off his hat and gloves. Both of them were streaked with dirt and a few blood splatters. Boxhall had a shallow cut on his cheek and he looked exhausted. Abdul came up to them and Lowe chuckled, picking up my cat and stroking him. "It was a complete and utter failure from start to finish."

"I take it Haskell has been done away with?" neither one of my officers were worse for wear, just dirty beyond belief and tired looking. For them to have gone in under heavy gunfire and survive unscathed was nothing short of a miracle in my opinion.

"Yes sir," Boxhall piped in. "the man was a pompous piece of work anyway. He demanded hard liquor from us which we obviously didn't have, then he insisted we take our sweet time going to the boat! I mean, we only had so many hours of daylight left."

I narrowed my eyes. Perhaps the Germans were right in excommunicating him. "What has become of him?"

"He procured illicit liquor from one of the locals, got raging drunk, went up on a sandy hill, and promptly got cut down in the line of fire," Lowe said smoothly. I could tell he was happy that it happened. "Of course he didn't give away any secrets. I think one of the Germans recognized him and just shot him in rage."

"How did you get yourselves out of there?"

"That was Joe's genius here, sir," Lowe nudged his friend. "He made it look like we had been shot and we were lying on the ground near the shoreboat until after sundown. When the Turks left, we simply sneaked into the boat and rowed out here."

"Excellent work, you two," I complimented them. "I will give you both a commendation for your services."

"Thank you, sir." they both saluted and Lowe put the cat down as I returned it.

"Off with you then. Get cleaned up and into bed." they didn't need to be told twice.

I sat down at my desk and wrote out their commendations for service, then my little smile did a slow fade as my mind went back to Lara involuntarily. She did betray my trust and I was insulted by it. Did she think I would spit out something so intensely personal? Had I given any indication that I was capable of doing so? I was missing something and the knowledge of that was making me unhappy. I jumped up and went to the bridge, giving orders to set a course for Southampton.

Wanting to detour to the surgery, I banished the idea and went out on the boat deck, trying to make my mind a blank so I wouldn't have to dwell on anything. I would go crazy otherwise. Being so wound up all day I needed some downtime so I strolled around the deck again, trying to be rational in my thoughts. No matter how rational I got, there was still the irksome thought that Lara did not trust me with her personal history. Even more irksome was the thought that I might have given her some unknown clue about my secret-keeping skills.

Shaking my head, I remembered that I had a report to write up. Better do that and organize my thoughts into paper form. Lara's situation could not be mentioned of course and it had no place in an official report, so it was the irritating mission that was the inevitable failure to write about.

I walked back to my quarters cursing Fleetwood out in my mind and glaring at the ship like it was responsible for our predicament.

LARA POV

"He just went off on me, John," I told Simpson, still partially numb by the mild sedative he'd used on me. "I've never seen him so mad."

"It's all right, Lara. Give him time to cool off." he soothed, spreading another blanket over me. "I told you he'd feel this way and you ignored me."

"I know. I'm sorry, John. I've done a lot of stupid things lately."

"Blame it on the hormones," he teased with a half smile. "now I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

"What?"

"Since this is your latest miscarriage, I want to do an exploratory laparotomy and try to see if there is anything going on down there that you need evaluated. We've tried everything else."

"I would reluctantly agree to that." surgery was my only option right now. "My hormone panel didn't show anything?"

"No. The levels were all normal for a lady in your previous state. There is the possibility that the child was laid wrong, your body ejected it because of that, but I'd not be convinced, particularly because this is the third time a miscarriage has happened to you. It can't have been laid wrong all three times."

"Right, it's impossible," I sighed. "so when do you want to do it?"

"Tomorrow. Rostron's setting a course for home."

"Good I guess." I bit my lip.

"Want me to stay here with you?" Simpson was so kind. "I can do that."

"No, thanks. Can you get Charles for me? I feel like I want to talk to him."

"Of course," he stood up. "shall I fill him in on what happened?"

"Sure." Simpson left the room.

Man, it had been scary this past hour! I woke up with bad pains in me, realized they weren't my gut but lower on, I checked myself over and found out I was actively miscarrying. I waited until most of the blood was gone, wrapped myself up in my bathrobe, then a pretty horrid stabbing pain shot through me and I couldn't keep a cry of pain from leaving my lips. To my surprise, Rostron was at my door and he looked shocked to see me there with one hand that had patches of blood on it. He tailed me to the surgery, but fortunately Simpson had examined me alone and stopped the bleeding. I was still in uncomfortable pain so he gave me a mild sedative that even now was still messing up my head.

It hadn't been the best way to enter into a conversation with Rostron, and he was livid that I didn't tell him anything about my condition at all. He vented his anger on me and left, that's all there was to it. I couldn't tell him what I was thinking at that moment, as the drug was making me overemotional and I did not want to say something stupid in front of him. He took that silence for defiance and left in a huff. My mind was still working through the sedation fog, I felt too emotional for my own good, and I wanted to talk to Lightoller. He would understand, being my closest friend on the ship.

When Lightoller arrived, he found me and engulfed me in a big hug. He looked quite anxious and I felt sorry for him at that moment. Simpson had told him what was going on and he immediately asked me if I was all right.

Lights was so kind to me, brushing back my hair from my eyes. "Tell me everything, Lara. What are you feeling right now?"

I knew he meant emotionally. "Charles, Rostron was here," I outlined that conversation, the barrage he'd unfurled on me, and I let the tears fall now.

"Poor woman," Lights dabbed my tears away. "that's not all the story I'm sensing."

"It happened again, Charles!" I cried, all dignity forgotten. "My body betrayed me and murdered my own child! Other women can crank out kids but for some reason, I can't! Why on earth must I be denied what I would like to do? I'd love to be a mom! I don't feel like a true woman knowing that I can't procreate!"

"Now now," Lights shushed me, keeping me in his embrace. "if you are meant to be a mother, then you will be. It doesn't mean you have to be today or tomorrow. It'll happen in due time."

"Then I'll miscarry again," more tears flowed freely. "one endless circle of attempted procreation!"

"Come on, don't think about it right now."

Impossible but I didn't say anything. "I'm useless, Charles."

"Why the hell would you think that?" he demanded sharply.

"Where I come from, it's all about women who have kids. There's a lot of emphasis on it in society," I shut my eyes. "we who cannot or do not bear kids are often ostracized."

"Lara, your self-worth should come from how you are as a person and the work you do," he rubbed my back. "it shouldn't be all about having children. It's very shallow of people to put all the woman's worth solely on her ability to procreate as you said. You're better than that."

When I said nothing, he continued on. "Suppose these people who shallowly think women are only worth it to have children are jealous of you and others like you because you are a highly skilled surgeon? Perhaps they don't get that it might not be your duty or mission in life to have children and settle down? Think about it this way-you can do battle surgery through 24 hours straight, you can stitch up wounds, you can nurse a cranky sailor with malaria back to health, you can do so many things that childbearing women can't. It's your call, so when you encounter someone shallow like that again, tell them exactly what you think."

"You mean that even though I can't have babies I can pull a patient back from the brink of death?"

Lights smiled and nudged my nose with his playfully. "Exactly. The other women can create life truly, but you can maintain it. I don't mean to slight mothers in general, but some of them are too shallow and full of themselves it's unbearable."

"Should we ever figure out what's wrong with me, I promise you I will not be one of those mothers." I teased with a shaky smile.

"There you go! Come on, let's dwell on the bright side." he kissed the top of my head. "Feel like you can sleep now?"

"I think so." Lightoller arranged himself at the head of the bed so he was holding me, I made sure the IV line wasn't kinked up, pecked Lightoller on the cheek, and reassured by his presence, I went to sleep.

During the weeklong passage back to Southampton, Simpson kept me under his supervision and checked me over every day. He wanted to be sure I would have no more episodes of bleeding, but that seemed like a remote possibility to me. The day we docked in Southampton, Simpson told me that he wanted to open me up and check me out down there, so to speak.

I supposed I couldn't deny it any longer. Something was wrong and I knew the only way to really find out was to undergo surgery. Rostron had been keeping his distance from me since he blew up at me that night, Lightoller was running interference between Rostron and me. Murdoch and the others came down to visit me and I liked the attention, but it seemed weird without Rostron there. He'd been with me when I was ill before but this was a whole different situation.

"When do you want to do it?"

"Today if possible," Simpson answered me, adjusting the IV line in the back of my left hand. He'd been insistent on keeping me on a strict NPO diet which meant I had to have fluids only. I hadn't been sure why, but now I knew he was planning on performing surgery on me for the past few days. As open as I was to the possibility, I was definitely nervous about it. "do you think you'll be up for it?"

"Yeah, sure. How long will it take you to get ready?"

"About ten minutes. I've already prepared the room," Simpson's brown eyes latched with mine and he got up, giving directions to the nurse to bring me into OR #1 for prepping.

As a vain attempt to save as much pride as possible, I insisted on getting up and walking myself to the room, only to be reminded that my johnny was open in the back and a very unwelcome draft caught my attention! I cursed out the garment thoroughly and ignored the nurse's polite smirking. I grasped the pole with the IV bag hung at the top and with one hand grasping at the back of my garment, I bit my lip to keep from giggling as I entered the OR.

"Under your own power, eh?" Simpson was all ready for me, scrubbed in and looking very much the professional surgeon. He watched as I got onto the cushioned table and lay down.

"Does Charles know what is going on here?"

"I sent him to give Captain Rostron the word on what was happening." my colleague told me as I allowed the scrub nurse and the anesthetist to take my arms and gently fasten them down to the moveable arm flaps at the sides of the table. They outfitted me with adhesive electrodes to monitor my heart and lungs, then I got the precursory injection of Fentanyl to make me sleepy.

"No worries, Lara. You know I do a great job." Simpson teased me as he put his face shield on. He looked very eerie and unreal, standing over me in blue scrubs with a yellow biohazard gown on. A nurse was tying the tapes in the back and I winced as the bright light above me was adjusted by one of the technicians. The light was aimed directly at my pelvis and another nurse was bringing out the sterile drapes to put on me. I really preferred being at the other end of a scalpel, but in this case it could not be helped. The anesthetist flicked a switch and on the monitor, my vital signs sprang onto it. I could tell the numbers were very normal, though I was still nervous.

"On soldiers. I don't know if you've ever operated on a woman before." I said through a fog. I was starting to get lightheaded from the drug. The others in the room chuckled as Simpson looked over to the anesthetist and gave him a nod, meaning that it was time to turn out my light, in a manner of speaking.

"Time for a nap." I smiled and watched as the doctor fitted a syringe to my line and injected me with Diprivan. The room immediately started getting fainter and my eyes closed. I knew what they would do next, simply intubate me, put me on a respirator, and tape my eyelids shut. Sedatives were also muscle relaxants so precautions had to be taken like taping my eyelids shut, etc. Simpson would fix me up and I would spend a week or two in recovery.

ROSTRON POV

The week we were sailing for Southampton, I was alternately furious and bewildered about Lara. I nearly went to see her on a few separate occasions, but she was either sleeping or had other company. Simpson had her on a strict diet and he told me that he wanted Lara under his care to be sure that she recovered well from her shall we say attack. Beforehand she had been looking ill and that was also a reason for him to keep her under his observation for the time being.

She had been looking a bit better in the glimpses I got of her, looking animated and giggling while Moody told her a particularly dirty joke. The two of them gossiped about the paranormal and whatnot, though I say our bout with the paranormal at Halloween had opened up our minds a bit more after that fiasco. It had been interesting but I was very glad it hadn't progressed any further than it had.

On the day of our arrival back in Southampton, I had been asked to immediately report to Fleetwood and Gregory about our excursion in Gallipoli and I had my reports all ready for them. Lowe and Boxhall had put together a joint report which I included. My two officers had been coping quite well with what they had been through and there was no evidence of any repercussions they might have suffered along the way. Mentally they were sound and physically they were too, which made me glad that they were my officers. Stoicism is and always will be a highly valued asset in a seagoing officer, whether merchant marine or navy.

I was just getting ready to disembark the ship when Lightoller knocked on my door and came in when I bade enter. He looked a bit nervous but not by much. I knew that Lara's hospitalization had given him some cause for anxiety, but considering how well she was doing now, he seemed to have relaxed a bit.

"Mr. Lightoller?" shutting my desk drawer, I stood up and pulled my hat off the peg in the wall as Abdul came in from the bedroom, meowing sleepily. The animal wound himself around Lightoller's legs, asking for attention. The officer ignored the cat and Abdul stalked away, offended by Lightoller's indifference.

"Yes sir. I've been asked by Dr. Simpson to tell you that he is going to be performing surgery on Dr. Sheridan momentarily."

I think some of my color just drained when he said that. Regardless of differences, I was quite fond of Lara still. "Is everything all right?"

"I can't say, sir. He didn't give me any particulars." I could tell Lightoller wanted to be near Lara but it would be futile. Only qualified personnel could be near their patients in an operating theater. Lightoller could watch but I didn't think he wanted to see his friend in such a state. She wouldn't know he was there anyway. I had seen several patients in the recovery room in varying states of consciousness and had been told by Simpson and Lara alike that none of the patients would remember anything for the next 12 hours or so because of the drugs. It would be doubly hard for my officers if they wanted to see Lara before she was fully awake, I was sure.

"I want an update when I return if you please." I picked up the reports and put on my hat, trying not to think of Lara's surgery. Lightoller saluted me, I returned it, then he left for the bridge. Lowe had just come on watch and Moody was joining him as I passed by the bridge on my way to the gangplank.

Distractedly I made my way towards the reception area in the out of place looking building, reports under my arm. Instead of making me wait in a very posh parlor like the last time I was here, they admitted me immediately to the same office with the same bulk that was Fleetwood sitting in the same chair. Gregory smiled at me and I took the same chair as last time. It was like the past 10 days had never happened and I was feeling quite unsettled.

While they read the reports, my mind drifted to Lara and I hoped that she would be all right. She and Simpson together had an excellent track record of keeping patients alive and I had no doubt that she was in good hands. Still, a bit of the pessimist kept coming up in me, wondering if she had bled out or any other morbid possibilities. Just my luck the way things were going that she would die while I was stuck here with a very likeable admiral and one who was very repulsive. Fleetwood looked like he'd been drinking already though it was hardly past noon. How on earth he got into a position of power by honest means seemed impossible. I made a mental note to ask Gregory before I left.

"So it would seem you failed." Fleetwood glared at me, throwing the report down.

"Yes we did." I put emphasis on the word 'we'. I wasn't the one who planned this absurd scheme.

"Now now, let's thank our lucky stars Mr. Lowe and Mr. Boxhall escaped serious harm." Gregory was ever the peacemaker.

"But Haskell is dead! He could have helped us stall Germany!" Fleetwood hadn't read my officers' joint report at all, obviously. How I loathe that man!

Gregory sighed. Fleetwood was a cranky drunken old sot and he was determined to be unpleasant all of the time. Nobody could win with him and I wasn't inclined to take my career in my hands by starting an argument with him. That was probably all he lived for aside from his drinking habits.

"Admiral Gregory, may I have a private word?" Fleetwood snorted as he lit up a pipe and began to puff it, alternately hacking at the same time. Gregory beckoned to the side door and we walked out into the garden like we did before.

"Sir, the mission was badly planned. Might I be correct in thinking that Fleetwood did this?"

Gregory sighed and inclined his head. "You are correct, Arthur. He-I don't like to speak ill of my colleagues."

"I wouldn't ask you to, sir."

"This is only between the two of us mind you."

"Of course, sir."

"Fleetwood was promoted to admiral by mistake. I don't know if you remember Captain Gordon Crichton? He was lost at sea during the Spanish-American war and he had been sent a dispatch with a promotion in it. Fleetwood picked it up and through a loophole in the promotion regulations, he finagled the promotion. I believe he threatened blackmail as well. The first lord of the admirality did not want to promote him but as you know, Fleetwood is politically connected. He has been skulking about like you see him now, hatching harebrained schemes that don't work. I don't think the man has ever picked up a newspaper in his life."

"He's done nothing to win a demotion then?"

"No, strangely enough. Perhaps not so strangely. Like I said before, he is politically connected. He likes to flaunt what little power he has. He's only here for appearances. If we were counting on him for plans for the war, we'd all be in deep trouble!" Gregory smirked. "I hate him as much as you do, Arthur, and I knew like you did that the plan was flawed and wouldn't work."

"Why did you put it into effect?"

"Because the mission was a ploy," Gregory's voice went down to a whisper. "We are planning something with the head of the army and the marines, so this mission you were just on was a deflection." he winked at me. "The real plan is to keep Fleetwood out of the conference room. Once he's had a few he will brag and talk about anything behind our backs. The doctors say he's drinking himself to death as is."

That wasn't shocking to me. "If he's in ill health sir, can't you force him to resign?"

"He hasn't demonstrated any loss of cognitive or mental function so we can't do it yet. Give it time." we reached the front of the building. "I'm glad your men did not get hurt, Arthur, and I believe you will stay in port for a few more days. How is your Dr. Sheridan?"

I sighed. "We had a bit of a row and she's undergoing surgery for a problem."

"When?"

"Right now, sir. My first officer told me just before I disembarked the ship to come here."

"Too bad. I quite like her," Gregory didn't pry for details which was another reason why I liked him so much. "My heartfelt wishes go out to her and I hope she recovers fully."

"Thank you, Admiral."

He grinned. "I can tell you are itching to be off now so I won't keep you. Good day, Arthur."

"And you, sir." I went off to the docks and reboarded the ship.

"Sir." Lowe saluted me and I returned it. Murdoch turned onto the bridge as I turned to go off of it and I stopped to ask him whether he heard anything from Simpson.

"I have not, sir. Dr. Simpson said to me that if you wished to come down and wait, it would be all right."

"I might just do that." I muttered. Changing into my work uniform, I tidied up the ship's log, checked the chart room to make sure everything was up to date, then reluctantly went down to the surgery. The waiting room for the operating rooms was painted in a light brown with oak paneling. The chairs were a bit uncomfortable, but I adapted to it by shifting my position a bit. Countless Reader's Digest magazines were everywhere, so I picked one up and began to read.

I had been in the waiting room for about one and a half hours when Simpson finally came in, taking off his mask and stuffing it into the garbage. "I thought you'd be in here, sir." he plunked himself down in the chair opposite me and sighed. "Feels good to sit down at last."

"How is she?" I tossed down the periodical carelessly and leaned forward.

"She's resting comfortably, sir. Be assured she has not had any side effects." the surgeon smiled at me. "As she reminded me just before the anesthetist put her under, I mostly work on soldiers so she playfully suggested I would be stymied by female anatomy."

I had to guffaw. That sounded like Lara pure and simple. "Before this war, I had plenty of female patients and I'm not so inept as she would think," Simpson added with another grin. "the surgery was very uncomplicated, I found several masses which had to be removed."

"What kind of masses were they?"

"They are something called fibroids. They are benign muscle masses that grow like tumors and in her case, they were blocking off the uterine body which explains her 3 miscarriages."

This was out of my depth now. Simpson seemed to recognize that and backtracked a little bit. "In other words, what happened to her previously should not happen again. Everything that should not have been there was cleared out."

"I'm quite glad to hear that." I exhaled slowly, absorbing the fact that Lara would be all right. "Might I see her?"

"She's still sleeping, sir. You can if you like, just don't expect her to be awake." I went into the recovery room and saw one of the nurses was adjusting Lara's monitor as I approached. Simpson saw me glance at the monitor thing and said in a low voice, "All those numbers are excellent, sir. She's in the right range."

Lara didn't look this bad before and I noticed she had a tube sticking out of her mouth. "What is that?"

"An endotracheal tube, sir. I am just about to remove it." the surgeon went to Lara's side and with the help of the nurses, managed to extract the tube by gently tugging and pulling, then an occasional wiggle. It cleared her throat and she seemed to breathe a lot easier with that thing gone. The numbers on that monitor (as I had been told that was indeed the proper term for that big square thing), didn't change a whit.

"She's tough." I commented as I stood nearby. "Really tough."

Simpson chuckled as he beckoned me forward. "We're all tough, sir. Lara is a rare soul. You know not many women would be entirely comfortable in the sole companionship of men like us?"

"Very true." taking one of her limp hands, it felt warm and soft to my callused palms. My old sea-beaten hand met one which examined other people and worked miracles when operating. It was odd how I thought of that, but that was what she and I were. Our hands defined us in a way. I had been on windjammers and sailing vessels, so my hands had been roughed up and calloused by the bristly rope and timbers, then steamships were a lot easier to manage, I had to admit. I didn't want to go into steam and Lightoller had echoed that sentiment wholeheartedly. Lara on the other hand had worked on countless lives, saving so many, her manual dexterity was obvious by her hands. As I turned it over in my hand, I noticed her slender and long fingers, curiously elegant looking and very feminine. All my hands really did now was write reports and do chart navigation, and yet hers had saved lives. Odd comparison, but there it was.

"Sir?"

"Hmmm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Just thinking about her a bit, John."

"I see." he seemed uncomfortable for a moment and stood up. "Her heart rate's going up some. Nurse!" he gave an order for a drug I never heard of and she scurried off to get it.

"What is that?" I looked up to see that her heart rate was going up some. "John?"

"It's all right, sir. Sometimes this happens after surgery. It's a delayed reaction to what her body's been through and the heart thinks it needs to speed up a bit to keep things under control. She needs a bit of a tranquilizer to keep everything stable for the time being. It'll wear off."

"The heart speeds up because it's under stress?" I was getting quite an education today!

"Yes sir. It sped up a bit when you were sick, it is all normal. I just want her to be stable and a little drug augmentation would help." the nurse brought the drug and he injected it into her IV line. I saw two marks over each eye which looked like raw skin and asked Simpson about it. "The sedation is a muscle relaxant and if we hadn't taped her eyelids down, her eyes would have stayed open and her corneas would have dried out."

"Oh, I see."

Simpson snorted as the numbers went down a little bit. "Much better. Nice pun, sir."

Sniggering, I sat down on the edge of the bed with Lara's hand still in my own as Simpson fussed over her, using some rubbing alcohol to get rid of the tape residue around her eyes.

"Sir, look." Simpson told me a few minutes later. Lara's eyes were open, but they looked vacant, all glazed over and unseeing. They moved, looking at the ceiling, then when Simpson raised his hand, she followed it closely. "Very good."

"Hi, Lara," I said tenatively, wondering if she would look at me at all right now. "it's Captain Rostron. How are you feeling?"

Lara looked at me and groaned with a wince. "Should I be offended or not?" I glanced at Simpson.

"No, sir. Her throat hurts, I think." he gave her a drink. "How bad is your pain? Do you think you can talk?"

"Can," she rasped. I was the one who winced now. Her voice sounded so rough and dry, not what we were used to. "throat hurts..."

"We can't do anything about that," Simpson gave her a sympathetic smile. "how's your pain?"

"My eye..."

"Which?" she brought up her free hand to gesture it was the left one.

"Hurts..."

"All right, Lara. I'll get you a salve and put some on. Captain, you can stay with her if you like."

"Certainly." I nodded and he went off to the pharmacy. Lara was watching me through clear and steady eyes. Her brown gaze I always found lively and through her ordeal, they had not lost their spark. "Lara, I need to apologize for how I acted. It was very rude of me-"

"Sir," she cut me off. Even lying half dead like she was, she still did that to me! "Please. When I'll remember."

"I should apologize when you're in complete command of your senses? So you'll remember it?"

"Yep." Lara glanced down to see that I held her hand and she squeezed mine. I gave her the warmest smile I was capable of.

"Mr. Lightoller and the others have been quite worried about you. I'll send them down later after you've rested more."

"Good." Lara managed to hang onto her senses long enough for Simpson to give her the promised medicine and she went back to sleep then, heaving a long sigh and sinking down into the mattress.

"Was that progress, John?" we stood up and headed for the exit with Simpson dimming the lights for Lara's benefit. The on duty nurse sat at her desk near Lara at one end of the ward, pencil in hand and making notes. We stood outside the doorway and looked back at Lara once. Dim lights seemed to cast her in an eerie glow, the likes of which made me think of an ancient druid ritual where they sacrificed live humans to the gods. I had to shake that feeling out of my mind as I turned back to Simpson.

"It was good progress, Captain," he assured me as we started ascending to my cabin. "aside from that little spike in her heart rate and the scratch on her cornea, she'll recover fully. Next thing you know she'll be up and about and bossing everyone around like usual."

On the bridge, we told the on duty officers what Simpson had just told me and said they could visit Lara sometime tomorrow afternoon when the drugs had worn off. We knew they would spread the word, so we did not pester the off duty officers. Murdoch in particular needed his rest, as his shift since his head injury tired him more than he would admit. Simpson told me it was a gradual process for Murdoch to get his stamina back up again and it would take some time. Murdoch wasn't absolutely convinced of this, impatient as he was. My chief officer often got annoyed when he became more tired than he remembered. Thankfully, Lightoller was around most of the time to de-stress his friend by his jokes and frequent ribald comments.

Noontime came and went, all the officers were informed now of Lara's condition and if she was conscious, she would have had scores of visitors with all sorts of trinkets to keep. Simpson forbade everyone from visiting her until the next day when she would be fully conscious and coherent enough to have conversations. If they started visiting now, they would just have to sit there while she slept off the drugs some more. Everyone grumbled about that but they saw reason. Lightoller and Murdoch in particular really wanted to see her, but I convinced them that they should retire for a few hours and get a good nap in. They were both too tired to argue, so they did exactly what I suggested.

Moody seemed to be more, moody lately. I saw him standing at the railing outside the officer's quarters, clutching the railing so hard his knuckles were white. I joined him at the rail, acting very nonchalant.

"Something wrong, James?"

"Oh, hello, sir. No, nothing's wrong."

"James, if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. You should tell someone, though. It is obvious that something is distressing you. Family?"

"No, sir," I paused so he could gather his thoughts together, pretending indifference. "A friend of mine is in love with a lady who treats him like a good friend, but doesn't show any romantic interest in him. He wants to make her see that he loves her."

A quandry indeed. "Sometimes a special friendship doesn't need complicating by person A telling person B that they are in love with them. If person A knows that person B doesn't harbor any romantic feelings towards them, why bring it up? Why make it an issue? Why spoil a good friendship? Why get your heart broken if you don't want to? Person A needs to ask these things before to make sure they are willing to risk a good friendship or not."

Moody turned to look at me, his blue eyes piercing in the afternoon sun. He'd been pining for someone, I was sure. "Thank you, sir."

"Person A is someone you know?" I asked bluntly.

He flushed red, evidence that person A was indeed himself. "No sir," he lied but I could forgive it. "it's one of my brothers."

Letting it slide, I gave him a little smile before I continued on my walk. "Tell your brother to ask himself these same questions, Mr. Moody. It can save a world of trouble and heartache."

"Yes sir."

END OF PART 7


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